....  ••  '•  irff 

RIVF-HNlYfiOI 

UL¥  L/  .11  IU  VJUL 


SANTA     CRUZ 


Gift  ol 
W.W.    HENRY  JR 


SANTA     CRUZ 


FOR  THE  BLUE  AND  GOLD 


FOR  THE  BLUE  AND  GOLD 

A  Tale  of  Life  at  the 
University  of  California 


by 


JOY     LlCHTENSTEIN 


A.   M.   ROBERTSON 

SAN  FRANCISCO 

1901 


COPYRIGHT  1901 

BY 
A.  M.  ROBERTSON 


PRINTED    BY   THE   STANLEY-TAYLOR    COMPANY 
SAN    FRANCISCO,  CAL. 


FOR  THE  BLUE  AND  GOLD 

A  Tale  of  Life  at  the 
University  of  California 


by 


JOY     LlCHTENSTEIN 


A.   M.   ROBERTSON 

SAN  FRANCISCO 

I9OI 


COPYRIGHT  1901 

BY 
A.  M.  ROBERTSON 


PRINTED  BY  THE  STANLEY-TAYLOR  COMPANY 
SAN  FRANCISCO,  CAL. 


TO 

MY   WIFE 


CHEER  FOR  THE  BLUE  AND  GOLD 

Cheer  for  the  Blue  and  Gold,  whene'er  you  see  its  hues! 
In  vict'ry  or  defeat,  do  not  the  moments  choose. 
Its  colors  stand  for  things  that  have  sweetened  all  our  lives. 
With  every  added  cheer  new  love  springs,  old  revives : 
Cheer  for  the  Blue  and  Gold ! 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAG» 

I.    Entering  the  University 1 

II.    The  Raw  Article 12 

III.  Getting  Under  Way 22 

IV.  The  Rush  ....                ...          33 

V.    College  Days  and  Ways 51 

VI.    Who's  Afraid?  65 

VII.    The  Big  Game 92 

VIII.    The  First  Lap  Completed 110 

IX.  The  Clans  Regather  and  Do  Some  Politics        .        .121 

X.  "How  the  Other  Half  Lives"         ....        138 

XI.    Trouble  on  the  Hill 153 

XII.  "Drill  Ye  Tarriers"         ......        169 

XIII.  Bourdon .180 

XIV.  Class  Day 202 

XV.  The  Dark  Horse           .......    215 

XVI.  O-U-T  Spells  Out          ...                .                225 


LIST   OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 

ILLUSTRATION  PAOB 

' '  Down   below,  the  grand  old  oaks  spread   their  gnarled 

limbs." Frontispiece 

"He  stood  on  the  west  steps  of  South  Hall."          .        .  16 

1 '  With  a  blithe  heart,  he  stepped  up  the  campus  to  his  first 

recitation." 28 

The  Rush 40 

Bumming  on  North  Hall  Steps.  52 

The  Backs 66 

"There  they  sit,  waiting  for  their  champions  to  appear."  92 

"California  has  kicked  off.    It  is  Stanford's  ball  for  first 

down." 104 

Down  in  the  Occident  office 124 

"Digging."            144 

"The  bugle  rings  out  sharply  upon  the  bracing,  early  April 

air." 170 

"  It  is  good  to  be  here." 208 

Old  North  Hall.  228 


CHAPTER   I 


Entering   the    University 


11  Excuse  me;  can  you  tell  me  where  I  must  go  to 
enter  the  university  ? ' ' 

'•'  Through  the  entrance." 

"Come  off,  Charlie,  you  know  that  he  has  to  go  to 
the  recorder's  office  first." 

"By  George,  that's  so.  I'd  forgotten.  You  first 
have  to  go  to  the  recorder's  office  and  register,  you  know. 
And  you' re  in  the  wrong  direction  for  that.  He's  in  the 
county  Hall  of  Records,  'way  back  in  Oakland.  You'd 
better  wait  for  the  down  train.  It'll  be  here  in  a  few  min- 
utes and  you  can  take  it  back  ;  too  bad." 

The  tone  of  the  first  speaker's  "  thank  you"  showed 
his  disappointment.  He  let  a  countrified  looking  oilcloth 
bag  slip  out  of  his  hand  to  the  ground,  prepared  to  take  the 
other's  advice. 

Berkeley  Station  is  the  scene,  the  time  the  middle  of 
August,  when  the  University  town  wakes  up  after  a  three 
months'  sleep  and  takes  on  a  livelier  hue  with  the  opening 
of  a  new  college  year.  A  train  from  the  city  has  just 
arrived,  and,  as  a  result,  the  reader  is,  in  the  foregoing 
dialogue,  introduced  to  James  Rawson,  sub-freshman,  and 
to  the  leading  spirit  of  a  band  of  "jolly  sophomores." 
According  to  immemorial  custom  the  latter  is  gathered  at 
the  station  to  see  how  many  green  freshmen  can  be  baited. 


For  the   Blue  and  Gold 


The  lanky  young  man  with  the  antique  bag  is  an  easy  mark. 
They  proceed  to  draw  him  out.      "  Coming  to  college  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"From  what  prep?  " 

"How's  that?" 

"  Oh,  at  what  school  did  you  prepare?  " 

"  None.     I've  been  studying  up  by  myself." 

"Ha,  ha!  Haven't  got  a  rec,  then?  Going  to  take 
the  entrance  exes  ?  I  see.  Hard  graft.  Where  are  you 
from?" 

"Riverside." 

"Why  didn't  you  go  to  Stanford  ?  It's  a  snap  to  get 
in  there.  Most  fellows  from  the  rural  parts  go  there 
anyway." 

"Well,  I  don't  know.  I  found  out  about  this  place 
first.  It  seemed  to  be  what  I  wanted,  so  I  did  not  look 
any  further.  Are  you  going  to  enter,  too  ? ' ' 

"Well,  that's  a  good  one.  Ha,  ha!  Fellows,  am 
I  going  to  enter?  No,  I  entered  long,  long  ago.  I'm  a 
sophomore.' ' 

"  I  beg  pardon,"  hastened  Rawson,  perceiving  that  he 
had  committed  some  sort  of  a  breach  of  etiquette. 

"Well,  here's  your  train,  Mr.  Freshman,"  broke  in 
the  other.  "  Now,  remember,  County  Recorder,  Hall  of 
Records,  Oakland  —  back  that  way.  That's  the  place  to 
register.  Am  I  right,  boys?  " 

"  You're  all  right,  Charlie,"  they  chorused.  The  dis- 
appointed look  returned  to  the  tall  man's  face  as  he  picked 
up  his  bag.  The  train  came  to  a  halt  and  he  prepared  to 
enter.  He  looked  around  in  the  direction  of  his  informants. 
They  had  turned  and  were  walking  away,  shaking  with 


Entering  the    University 


laughter  and  slapping  one  another  on  the  back.  A  sus- 
picion that  he  had  been  made  game  of  came  into  Rawson's 
mind,  and  he  hesitated.  Looking  up,  he  met  the  glance  of 
a  prim  old  lady  standing  by.  "  Don't  get  into  that  train," 
she  broke  out  sharply.  "They're  only  fooling  you.  Go 
up  that  street  there  —  Center  Street  —  and  keep  going 
straight  up  and  you'll  come  to  the  university.  Ask  for  the 
recorder's  office  there.  That's  what  you  want,  not  the 
county  recorder.  Young  rascals  !  ' '  she  snapped,  and 
hopped  on  board  the  already  moving  train,  leaving  Rawson 
with  his  word  of  thanks  still  on  his  lips. 

Determined  to  ask  no  more  questions,  he  started  off  in 
the  direction  indicated.  His  ten  minutes'  walk  up  to  the 
university  buildings  will  give  us  a  chance  for  a  bit  of  a 
gossip. 

As  he  goes  up  the  street,  James  Rawson  is  twenty-three 
years  of  age  and  past,  stands  six  feet  two  and  one-half  in 
his  stockings,  and  tips  the  scales  close  to  one  hundred  and 
eighty -five  pounds.  His  face  is  thin,  with  prominent  cheek- 
bones, but  that  it  is  not  drawn  by  ill-health  is  easily  seen, 
for  the  eyes  shine  cool  and  clear  from  beneath  heavy, 
straight,  black  brows.  Black  hair,  likewise  straight  and 
stiff,  hangs  down  over  a  tall  collar,  which  latter  does  not 
succeed  in  concealing  a  thin,  bony  neck.  There  is  just  a 
suspicion  of  the  Indian  type  about  Rawson,  which  is  height- 
ened by  his  bronzed  skin.  So  much  for  the  outward,  phys- 
ical aspect.  What  of  the  inner  forces  that  are  propelling 
him  ?  Rawson  hails  from  a  new  town  down  in  the  Southern 
California  orange  belt.  His  folks  are  Easterners,  who  came 
out  just  before  the  "boom."  After  the  events  of  that 
period  (when  values  went  up  like  a  rocket  and  came  down 


For  the   Blue  and   Gold 


like  its  stick)  had  left  their  holdings  in  much  the  same  state 
as  a  dried  prune,  they  had  gone  into  orange  raising. 

James  had  been  through  the  grammar  school,  but  was 
compelled  to  stop  there,  as  the  oranges  needed  his  help. 
But  there  was  that  in  him  which  craved  the  more  systematic 
and  refined  knowledge  that  we  call  culture.  So  he  did  not 
forget  his  books  when  the  school  door  closed  behind  him. 
At  about  eighteen  he  came  to  realize  that  the  university 
was  the  place  where  they  had  what  he  wanted,  and  he 
determined  to  get  there  some  day.  He  took  up  the  high 
school  work,  and  followed  it  as  best  he  could  with  the  aid  of 
chums  who  went  there. 

A  year  previous  he  had  approached  his  father :  "I 
want  to  go  to  college,  dad.  Do  you  think  that  you  can 
spare  me  after  this  season  ? ' '  The  father  had  long  known 
what  was  coming. 

"It's  the  only  thing  for  you,  Jim,  and  you'd  better  go. 
It'll  be  a  hard  pull  without  you,  and  I  can't  do  more  than 
give  you  your  time.  But  if  you  think  you  can  make  it, 
why,  try  it  on,  and  I'll  stand  the  fare  back  if  it  don't  go. 
Looking  around  nowadays,  when  half  the  country  goes  up 
to  college,  I  see  how  big  a  handicap  a  fellow  has  to  give 
to  the  man  with  the  college  degree.  Go  in  and  win,  Jim, 
if  you  can."  James  gripped  his  father's  hand  in  a  manner 
which  telegraphed  much.  He  worked  harder  than  ever 
that  year,  and,  with  a  few  things  that  were  placed  in  his 
way,  managed  to  save  seventy-five  dollars  by  August.  The 
purchase  of  clothes  and  a  steamer  ticket  had  reduced  this 
by  half.  Then,  with  a  last  look  about  the  old  place,  and  a 
wordless  farewell,  James  Rawson  started  off  in  search  of 
the  higher  education.  There  he  is  now,  at  last,  after  some 


Entering  the    University 


more  misdirections,  climbing  the  stairs  of  North  Hall  to  the 
recorder's  office. 

"What  is  the  first  thing  for  me  to  do  to  enter  the 
university?" 

"  Have  you  a  recommendation  from  an  accredited 
secondary  school  ?" 

"No." 

"Then  you  must  pass  the  entrance  examinations. 
Here  is  a  register  telling  you  which  ones  to  take.  Here  is 
a  schedule  of  when  they  occur, ' '  and  the  attendant  turned 
to  the  next  freshman. 

Rawson  did  not  need  the  information  that  the  register 
contained  as  he  had  long  ago  mastered  it.  He  knew  the 
subjects  that  he  had  to  be  examined  in,  and  something 
about  the  kind  of  examination  to  expect,  which  latter  he 
had  learned  from  a  specimen  set  of  questions.  Glancing  at 
the  list,  he  found  that  his  first  examination  was  the  first  on 
the  list.  "English  1  A,"  scheduled  for  next  morning  at 
nine.  Realizing  now  how  close  he  was  to  the  test  upon 
which  everything  depended,  a  doubtful  spell  seized  James, 
and  he  was  for  opening  up  his  bag  for  another  look  at  the 
book.  He  had  had  these  spells  before.  I  wonder  if  I  have 
covered  all  the  ground  ?  Will  I  remember  everything  when 
the  decisive  moment  comes?  Wouldn't  it  be  pretty  if  they 
should  stick  a  big,  lumbering  cuss  like  me  with  some  little 
point  that  a  sixteen-year-older  knows?  Then  I'd  be 
dropping  off  the  train  down  Riverside  way,  and  the  old  man 
would  say  :  '  *  Ho,  you  back,  Jim  !  Better  get  into  your 
jumper  and  lend  a  hand  with  the  fumigating." 

With  an  effort  Rawson  rubbed  these  pictures  from  his 
mind  and  picked  up  his  bag  for  a  preliminary  survey  of 


For  the   Blue  and  Gold 


the  scene  of  operations.  He  had,  besides,  to  get  around 
and  find  out  what  chance  there  was  for  a  job  with  which  to 
pay  his  way.  He  was  under  no  illusions  as  to  the  length 
of  time  that  his  money,  unassisted,  would  last.  He  had 
heard  that  there  were  plenty  of  chances  for  work  in  Berkeley, 
whereby  a  student  could  earn  his  board  and  lodgings,  at 
least.  Coming  up  in  the  boat  he  had  spoken  to  a  graduate 
who  had  done  it.  Coming  to  college,  like  James,  with  a 
small  sum  to  start  on,  sufficient  for  books  and  incidentals  for 
a  term,  he  had,  in  the  first  year,  made  beds  and  chopped 
wood  in  a  boarding-house  for  his  keep,  and  during 
succeeding  vacations  he  had  gathered  up  enough  to  last 
him  through  college  by  canvassing  for  a  stock  book.  Such 
was  the  line  of  action  that  James  had  marked  out  for  himself. 
He  had  no  fears  on  this  score,  for  he  was  neither  afraid  nor 
ashamed  of  work  in  any  form.  "  Let  me  pass  these  exes 
first,"  he  said  to  himself,  "and  I'll  find  the  job  to  keep  me 
going." 

It  was  not  yet  noon,  so  he  determined  to  look  around 
a  while  and  get  his  bearings.  Standing  on  the  west  steps  of 
South  Hall,  he  drank  in  the  beauty  of  the  scene  before 
him  —  the  finest  university  site  that  the  world  can  show. 
Immediately  in  front  lay  the  sloping  campus,  bare  and 
dry  ;  but  down  below,  the  grand,  old  oaks  spread  their 
gnarled  limbs,  and  off  to  the  right  the  tall  trees  on  the 
slope  gave  promise  of  refreshing  shade.  "There'll  be  the 
place  to  study,"  thought  James.  Far  down  below,  San 
Francisco  Bay  lay  shimmering  in  the  strong  sun,  and  out 
further,  seen  above  the  tree-tops,  the  Golden  Gate  spanned 
its  narrow  width  between  the  Fort  and  the  brown  Marin 
hills.  "Here's  what  you've  been  looking  for,  my  boy." 


Entering  the    University 


Rawson  was  suffused  with  desire  to  be  part  of  what  was 
about  him,  to  grasp  the  splendid  things,  to  figure  in  the  life 
that  seemed  now  within  his  reach.  Who  does  not  experience 
this  uplifting,  enlarging  emotion  when  he  stands,  taking  in 
the  beauty  and  dwelling  on  the  significance  of  the  dear  old 
campus  and  its  sights?  It  comes  to  the  new  sophomore, 
just  returned  from  his  first  long  vacation ;  and  to  the 
staid  alumnus,  too,  the  old  longing,  unappeased,  returns 
when,  after  each  absence,  he  views  the  old,  familiar  scenes. 

From  South  Hall,  James  wandered  up  to  the  library, 
then  back  again  to  North  Hall.  The  steps  here  were  well 
filled  with  lolling  figures.  "Here's  your  cousin  Si,  just 
come  to  taown,"  came  from  the  steps.  The  remark  had 
not  been  intended  for  James'  ear,  but  it  had  overshot  its 
mark.  He  felt  his  old  bag  grow  to  the  proportions  of  a 
Saratoga  trunk  as  it  hung  by  his  side.  He  turned  red 
about  the  ears  and  his  feet  refused  to  move  properly. 
Then  some  one  began  to  mark  time  :  "Hip,  hip,  hip,  hip." 
Coming  close,  James  singled  out  his  young  misinformant  of 
the  morning,  Charlie  Boyce.  Rawson  hesitated,  not  caring 
to  retreat,  yet  not  wishing  to  force  his  way  up  the  steps. 
Here  Boyce  broke  the  ice,  calling  out  cheerily:  "Come 
right  up  ;  step  on  their  necks."  He  stood  up  and  shook 
James  warmly  by  the  hand.  "Registered  yet?  No? 
That's  too  bad.  But  you're  a  bit  ahead  of  time.  Regis- 
tration won't  come  till  next  week  for  freshmen."  The 
sophomore's  cheerful  audacity  made  it  impossible  for  James 
to  feel  angry,  so  he  merely  grinned,  holding  on  warmly 
meanwhile  to  Boyce' s  fingers  until  the  latter  began  to  smile 
wryly  out  of  the  other  side  of  his  mouth. 

"Well,   so  long,"    began   Boyce,    limply,    as   James 


For  the   Blue  and  Gold 


finally  released  his  grip.  * '  Let  me  know  if  I  can  be  of  any 
further  assistance  to  you." 

1 '  Yes,  I  surely  will, ' '  replied  James,  grinning,  and  the 
smile  was  not  all  on  him  as  he  went  through  the  door. 

"  Hully  gee,  but  that  freshman's  got  a  grip!"  ex- 
claimed Boy  ce,  wringing  his  fingers.  "I  wouldn't  like  to 
run  up  against  that  man  in  the  rush." 

"There's  good  football  material  there,  I  bet,  if  it's 
only  brought  out,  and  the  freshmen  need  all  they  can  get 
this  time,"  remarked  another. 

In  the  hall  Rawson  found  an  interested  group  studying 
the  notices  on  the  bulletin-board.  A  half  dozen,  evidently 
freshmen,  were  gathered  about  the  schedule  of  entrance 
examinations.  A  fellow-feeling  was  making  them  wondrous 
kind.  As  James  stood  he  was  accosted  : 

"Going  to  take  the  exes ?  " 

"Yes." 

"What  ones?" 

"  All  that  I  need  to  get  into  the  College  of  Social  Sci- 
ences—  eleven,  I  think." 

"Well,  well ;  you're  up  against  it.  I  only  have  to  take 
two  in  English.  This  is  my  sophomore  year.  The  prep  I 
came  from  didn't  get  accredited  in  English  1  B  and  14  last 
year,  and  I  let  them  stand  over.  You  see,  the  old  prof 
that  came  visiting  us  caught  us  on  an  off  day  and  cinched  us 
right  and  left.  But  you'll  pull  through  all  right.  The  only 
way  to  do  is  to  bluff  it  out  —  write  all  around  your  subject, 
and  you're  bound  to  hit  something.  Don't  particularize; 
deal  in  glittering  generalities,  and  write  a  lot.  If  you  fill 
up  a  whole  wad  of  paper,  the  prof  will  get  sleepy  and  give 
you  a  two  in  self-defense." 


Entering  the    University 


Rawson  was  beginning  to  get  information  in  large 
chunks.  He  wondered  if  it  was  of  the  same  sort  as 
Boyce's.  But,  no  ;  he  had  "cottoned  up"  instantly  to  the 
tall  youth.  He  was  sorry,  therefore,  when  his  informant 
broke  off,  calling  out : 

"  Here,  George,  is  a  man  in  the  same  boat  that  you 
are  —  has  to  take  all  the  exes." 

' '  Glad  to  meet  you, ' '  said  George,  extending  his  hand. 
"We're  companions  in  misery.  Say,  by  the  way,  do  you 
remember  who  wrote  '  Lycidas '  ?  Oh,  yes,  Milton,  to  be 
sure.  I'm  always  getting  that  man  mixed  with  Keats.  He 
wrote  '  Lamia,'  didn't  he  ?  I  tell  you  those  names  that  be- 
gin with  the  same  letter  are  confusing.  This  English 
business  is  a  little  out  of  my  way,  anyhow.  You  see,  I'm 
going  into  the  Mining  College.  I  don't  see  what  use  I'll 
have  for  English  in  a  mine.  Well,  I'm  off  to  lunch.  Come 
along,  Percy.  After  that,  some  tall  digging.  So  long." 

James  strolled  down-stairs  into  the  locker  room  and  up- 
stairs through  the  deserted  halls  and  rooms,  with  the  wood- 
man's instinct  of  getting  his  bearings.  He  looked  in 
through  the  open  door  of  room  23,  where  he  was  going  for 
his  first  examination,  and  felt  that  to  have  the  pictures  of 
the  authors  about  whom  he  was  to  write,  looking  down 
at  him  from  the  walls,  was  going  to  be  quite  an  inspi- 
ration. Then,  between  eating  his  lunch,  which  he  got  from 
his  bag,  and  strolling  up  toward  the  hills  back  of  the 
Chemistry  Building,  the  afternoon  began  to  wear  away,  and 
James  bethought  himself  of  securing  accommodations  for 
the  evening.  Passing  down  the  path  from  the  library,  he 
met  his  two  acquaintances. 

' '  Going  home  ?  ' '  they  called. 


IO 


For  the   Blue  and  Gold 


"  Going  to  find  a  home,"  replied  James,  as  he  joined  them. 

"Not located  yet?" 

' '  No.     I  just  came  in  this  morning. " 

"  Well,  say,  George  and  I  are  in  a  nice,  modest  place  down 
on  Chapel  Street.  The  old  lady  seems  to  have  more  room  than 
she  wants.  Why  not  come  along  and  see  what  she's  got  ? ' ' 

I  *  All  right, "   assented  James.     ' '  I  just  want  tempor- 
ary quarters  while  the  exes  are  on.     If  I  weather  them,  I'll 
look  around  for  something  permanent." 

"  Same  here.  Last  year  I  was  in  a  chewing  club,  and 
as  soon  as  things  get  going,  George  and  I  are  going  to 
organize  or  join  another. ' ' 

II  What's  the  plan?" 

"A  dozen  fellows,  more  or  less,  get  together,  hire  a  few 
rooms  or  so  and  a  chief  cook  and  bottle  washer,  and  take 
their  meals  together.  It's  all  right  if  the  fellows  are  all  right. 
They  all  share  the  expenses  —  co-operative,  you  know." 

"  How  much  does  it  stand  you? " 

1 '  Oh,  anywhere  from  ten  to  fifteen  dollars  per  month. 
Depends  on  the  food  and  style.  I  try  to  strike  a  mean." 

"  What  do  room  and  washing  come  to|?" 

"Well,  you  can  bunk  one,  two  or  three  deep,  and  from 
the  cellar  to  the  garret.  Two's  company,  unless  you're 
sure  of  the  third.  Call  it  two  per  month  each.  Then,  if 
you  want  the  rest,  figure  in  a  dollar  for  washing  and  three 
for  books,  class  assessments  and  extras.  I  wouldn't  want 
to  live  for  less  than  eighteen  plunks  per. " 

14  I'll  have  to,"  asserted  James.  "I'm  going  to  try  it 
working  my  way  through.'* 

"Don't  let  me  discourage  you,"  hastened  Percy.  "It 
can  be  done,  and  lots  do  it.  But  it's  hard  graft,  and  a  fel- 


Entering  the    University          \\ 


low  has  to  give  up  everything  but  work,  Sundays  and 
all — just  dig,  dig.  But  during  vacation,  you'll  be  able  to 
put  enough  by  to  last  you  well  through  next  year.  George 
and  I  did.  We're  pooling  ours.  We  met  on  a  harvester 
down  in  the  San  Joaquin  Valley  this  vacation.  That's  hard 
graft,  too.  Look  at  those  hands." 

"  Here  we  are.     Have  to  ring,  as  we  have  no  key  yet." 
The  door  opened,  disclosing,  to  Rawson's  surprise,  the 
prim  old  lady  of  the  morning.     She  smiled  severely. 

11  Well,  young  man,  did  you  find  the  right  recorder?'* 
' '  Yes,  thanks  to  you.     I  did  not  have  the  chance  this 
morning,  so  I  want  to  thank  you  now." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right.  Beware  of  sophomores  and 
don't  go  outside  the  mile  limit  —  that's  my  best  advice  to 
new  freshmen. ' ' 

James  made  known  his  necessities  and  was  soon 
up-stairs,  "under  the  roof,"  in  a  prim  little  bedroom. 
As  the  boarders  had  not  yet  begun  to  come,  James 
and  his  two  friends,  with  Mrs.  Saunders,  the  little 
landlady,  made  up  the  company  at  the  table.  It  was 
not  a  very  lively  gathering,  for,  try  as  they  would 
to  be  jolly,  the  cloud  of  the  pending  exes  hung 
over  at  least  two  heads.  Good-night  was  soon  said. 
James  sought  his  room  and  spent  an  indecisive  moment 
hovering  between  his  books  and  his  bed.  Bed  won,  and, 
as  he  was  dozing  off,  he  was  conscious  of  a  continued  buzz 
in  the  next  room.  Then  came  a  protesting,  sleepy,  "Hang 
it,  George,  read  that  to  yourself.  I  don't  want  to  know 
it. "  A  book  was  slammed  viciously,  and  in  the  succeeding 
quiet,  James  fell  asleep,  to  dream  of  questions  for  which  no 
answers  had  ever  been  made. 


CHAPTER   II 
The   Raw  Article 


Next  morning  the  campus  sprang  into  life.  Towards 
nine,  students  began  coming  from  all  directions,  most  of  them 
converging  at  North  Hall,  where  the  first  examinations  were 
to  be  held.  They  were  not  only  freshmen,  but  some  sopho- 
mores who  had  entrance  or  freshman  conditions  to  work  off. 

James  and  his  two  friends  were  early  on  the  ground  and 
proceeded  up  to  the  room  of  torture.  Here  James  met  his 
first  surprise.  The  chairs  were  arranged  like  checkers  on  a 
checker-board,  an  arm's  length  in  every  direction  separa- 
ting each  from  its  neighbors.  "What's  that  for?"  he 
asked. 

"To  prevent  cheating,  I  suppose,"  answered  Percy. 
' '  There  are  plenty  who  are  still  kids  when  they  come  here, 
and  the  best  have  to  be  treated  like  the  worst,  I  guess,  for 
safety."  Nevertheless  this  came  as  a  shock  to  Rawson, 
who  had  formed  some  ideals  about  university  life,  based 
upon  the  supposition  that  all  who  were  there  came  with  the 
same  intentions  that  he  came  with. 

But  there  was  little  time  for  this  train  of  thought. 
Soon  he  found  himself  plunged  into  the  middle  of  things. 
After  he  had  overcome  his  first  nervousness  he  felt  himself 
sailing  on  in  a  surprisingly  smooth  way.  He  looked  neither 
to  right  nor  left,  intent  upon  his  work,  until  presently  he 
felt  a  slight  touch  on  his  right  foot.  He  glanced  up  and 


The   Raw  Article 


saw  that  his  neighbor  on  that  side  was  a  sprucely  dressed 
youth  with  a  high  collar  and  evenly  parted  hair.  In  a 
minute  the  kick  was  repeated,  and,  looking  up  annoyed, 
Rawson  saw  that  the  other  had  a  scrap  of  paper  in  his  hand 
which  he  now  reached  out  to  him.  Just  at  this  moment  the 
instructor  glanced  their  way.  Quickly  leaving  his  seat,  he 
advanced  down  the  aisle  calling,  ' '  No  communication, 
please."  He  stood  before  them.  "  Kindly  pass  me  that 
slip  of  paper,"  he  said  to  the  youth,  who  still  held  it,  his 
arm  half  extended.  It  read  :  "  Who  wrote  that  passage  in 
the  third  question?"  " Whose  is  this?  "  came  the  sharp 
question. 

'  *  I  picked  it  up  to  pass  back  to  him ;  I  supposed  it 
was  his,"  replied  the  other,  quickly. 

"  Did  you  write  or  pass  this  ?  "  to  Rawson. 

"  No,  sir  ;  never  saw  it  before ;  he  must  be  mistaken." 

"  It  was  right  there,  near  the  leg  of  his  chair,"  spoke 
up  the  youth,  eagerly. 

Seeing  that  the  others  were  being  disturbed,  the  in- 
structor commanded,  ' '  Both  you  gentlemen  come  up  to  my 
desk  with  your  papers." 

Rawson  was  pale  with  fear  that  his  career  was  about  to 
be  shut  off  through  the  other' s  rascality.  He  felt  that  it 
was  only  his  word  against  the  other's.  The  instructor 
examined  Rawson 's  paper.  Question  three  was  completely 
and  satisfactorily  answered.  He  had  been  working  on 
question  four.  The  instructor  took  up  the  other  one.  The 
question  was  repeated,  then  the  words,  ' '  The  author  of  the 
foregoing  passage  is ' '  — and  the  rest  of  the  sheet  was  blank. 
He  looked  up.  ' '  You  may  return  and  continue,  Mr. 
Rawson,"  handing  back  James*  paper.  "Mr.  Holland, 


For  the   Blue  and   Gold 


you  are  excused  from  further  participation  in  this  examina- 
tion. I  will  hold  these  papers." 

The  youth,  his  face  flaming  back  to  his  ears,  sprang  for 
his  hat  and  hurriedly  left  the  room  muttering,  * '  We  will  see 
about  this." 

As  Rawson  passed  Percy,  the  latter  whispered,  "  Holy 
smoke,  Captain  Holland's  freshman  brother." 

The  rest  of  the  examination  passed  off  without  incident. 
Rawson  felt  that  he  had  done  well,  and  this  gave  him  confi- 
dence for  the  succeeding  tests.  These  three  days  were  busy 
ones.  He  got  so  used  to  walking  into  rooms,  taking  paper 
and  pencil,  and  writing  answers  to  questions,  that  by  the  end 
of  the  third  day  he  was  quite  hardened  to  the  process.  He 
felt  pretty  easy  about  everything  but  Latin,  in  which  he  had 
been  rather  at  sea.  Sure  enough,  a  few  days  after  the 
examination,  Rawson,  passing  through  North  Hall,  stopped 
at  the  bulletin-board  where  a  lot  of  official  letters  to  the 
students  were  on  the  rack.  He  glanced  idly  along  the  rows 
until  he  came  to  "  R,"  when  his  heart  gave  a  jump  at  the 
name  "James  Rawson"  on  a  white  envelope,  with  the 
heading  "Recorder  of  the  Faculties."  Inside  was  a 
printed  card  informing  James  Rawson  that  he  was  condi- 
tioned in  Latin  6  and  7. 

Turning  to  leave,  he  heard  a  genial  voice  call,  "  Hello, 
freshman  ! ' '  and  smiling  Charlie  Boyce  reached  up  and 
slapped  him  on  the  back.  "Cinch  notice,  hey?  Get  any 
more?  No?  Well,  then  you're  through  all  right,  for 
tomorrow  you  sign  the  roll." 

Rawson  felt  relieved,  even  joyous,  and  smiled  agreeably 
on  Boyce.  He  did  not  feel  a  particle  of  ill-will  against  the 
fair-haired,  laughing  sophomore  for  his  trick.  In  fact,  he 


The   Raw  Article 


was  grateful  for  the  experience  that  he  had  gained  by  it.  So 
when  Charlie  said  in  a  matter-of-fact  way,  "  Say,  Rawson, 
I  suppose  you'll  be  down  to  the  gym  tomorrow  to  get 
measured  for  your  uniform?"  James  smiled.  "I'll  think 
about  it,"  he  replied.  "Straight  goods,  sure,"  affirmed 
Boyce  as  he  left. 

Rawson  hunted  up  Percy  and  George.  "Get  any 
notices  ?  "  asked  the  latter. 

''Yes,  one;  though  it's  a  double  header  —  Latin  6 
and?." 

"Good  enough!  You'll  work  that  off  all  right  next 
January.  I've  got  one,  also.  In  that  confounded  English  14. 
I  tell  you  that's  no  pipe.  I  can't  just  get  it  through  my  nut, 
anyway,  what  a  fellow  in  the  Mining  College  wants  of 
English  14." 

Rawson  told  his  friends  what  Boyce  had  said  about 
getting  measured  for  a  military  uniform  and  Percy  advised, 
"  That's  a  good  thing  to  keep  away  from,  Jim.  They  strip 
you,  give  you  a  cold  shower,  put  you  through  a  lock-step, 
and  lots  of  other  stunts.  However,  we'll  take  it  in  as 
spectators. ' ' 

Next  day  the  freshmen  signed  the  roll.  After  filling 
out  an  elaborate  blank,  descriptive  of  himself  and  his  family, 
and  paying  his  diploma  fee,  Rawson  became  the  proud 
possessor  of  a  blue  card  which  recommended  him  for 
admission  to  the  university. 

After  this  the  freshmen  registered  (selected  their 
studies)  for  the  first  half  year.  There  had  been  a  great 
deal  of  talk  among  them  about  this  ;  discussions  as  to  what 
studies  were  prerequisites  in  such  and  such  college ;  what 
were  the  best  courses  to  take  and  what  the  easiest — ' '  snaps' ' — 


1 6          For  the  Blue  and  Gold 


these  latter.  And  we  may  be  sure  that  a  great  deal  of 
misinformation  was  exchanged.  For  this  matter  of  choice 
of  subjects  and  of  courses  is  one  that  very  few  get 
straightened  out  in  their  freshman  year,  no  matter  how 
much  it  has  been  talked  of  before.  It  takes  a  great  deal  of 
discussion  among  students  and  between  students  and  pro- 
fessors before,  from  the  intricate  and  bewildering  display  of 
courses  in  the  register,  the  student  can  select  just  the  right 
ones  —  those  that  he  has  to  have  to  graduate  and  those 
elective  courses  that  are  best.  And  need  it  be  said  that 
some  go  through  college  without  having  taken  many  of  the 
latter  class  ? 

The  freshmen  had  not  much  freedom  in  the  selection  of 
courses.  Registered  in  a  certain  college,  one  has  to  per- 
form specified  prerequisite  work  in  the  first  two  years. 
Rawson  was  registered  in  the  College  of  Social  Sciences, 
and  he  determined  to  take  up  the  prerequisite  work  exactly 
as  required.  The  question  with  him  was,  how  much  could 
he  take  and  still  do  enough  outside  work  to  support 
himself?  Eighteen  hours  of  recitation  a  week  he  learned 
was  the  limit  allowed  by  the  faculty. 

"  Do  you  think  I  will  be  able  to  take  eighteen  hours, 
Percy?"  he  asked. 

"  Easily,  if  you  were  not  going  to  work  outside.  But 
I  don't  see  how  you  can  if  you  are.  You'll  have  to  find 
your  job  first  in  order  to  be  able  to  see  just  how  much  study 
you  can  do." 

"Well,  I  haven't  had  time  to  look  for  it,  and  I  must 
register  today." 

"  Here  is  my  advice,  then  :  register  for  fifteen  hours. 
Keep  that  up  regularly  for  eight  terms,  and  you'll  have  just 


The   Raw  Article  17 


enough  to  graduate.  You  are  supposed  to  give  two  hours 
to  preparation  for  each  hour  of  recitation.  Some  things 
will  come  easier  ;  maybe  some  will  come  harder.  So  let's 
say  that  you  average  forty-five  hours  of  college  work  a 
week.  Say,  seven  and  one-half  hours  a  day,  leaving  out 
Sunday.  That  gives  you  all  the  way  from  five  to  seven  for 
outside  work.  You  ought  to  be  able  to  earn  your  keep  in 
that  time  and  still  have  a  little  left  over  for  recreation.  But 
don't  register  for  any  half-past  eight  or  one  o'clock  courses, 
as  you'll  probably  not  be  able  to  make  them." 

"That  seems  right,"  replied  James,  as  he  thanked 
Percy.  And  he  took  his  friend's  advice. 

Instruction  for  freshmen  was  to  begin  on  i  the  following 
day.  After  having  registered  in  the  morning,  James  was 
strolling  down  the  main  path  with  his  two  friends,  when, 
glancing  over  in  the  direction  of  the  gymnasium,  he  saw  a 
line  of  students  drawn  up,  having  decidedly  the  appearance 
of  an  awkward  squad.  In  front  of  them  stood  a  student  in 
the  military  uniform  of  an  officer.  His  black  plug  hat 
showed  him  to  be  a  senior.  He  carried  a  cane.  Rawson 
had  forgotten  what  Boyce  had  told  him  about  being 
measured  for  a  uniform.  Now  he  recollected,  and  thought 
that  this  might  be  the  ceremony.  "  Let's  go  over  and  see 
what's  doing,"  he  suggested.  They  crossed  the  campus  to 
the  gym. 

"Now,  freshmen,"  the  senior  was  saying,  "as  you 
may  know,  each  year  we  take  squads  of  you  out  to  test  you 
for  drill.  Then  you  get  measured  for  your  uniforms  up  in 
the  armory.  Now,  right  face,  forward  march  !"  The 
freshmen  (eight  of  them)  looked  a  little  incredulous  and 
hesitated,  but  the  senior  stamped  and  waved  his  cane, 


1 8          For  the   Blue  and  Gold 


"  forward,  double  time  !  "  he  shouted.  Seeing  how  earnest 
he  was,  and  that  he » wore  an  officer's  shoulder-straps,  they 
obeyed.  Forward  they  started,  in  single  file  with  various 
strides,  up  the  campus  at  a  trot.  A  group  of  sophomores 
set  up  in  high-pitched  voices,  "Drill,  ye  terriers,  drill." 
"Put  them  through  it,  Holland."  As  Rawson  heard  the 
name,  he  looked  at  Percy,  who  nodded  affirmatively. 
"He  might  be  at  better  business." 

"Well,  let's  follow  it  up  and  await  developments." 
They  now  came  before  the  rear  steps  of  North  Hall.  A 
crowd  was  waiting.  "Hip,  hip,  hip,  hip,"  they  meas- 
ured. "  Halt  !  Fold  arms  !  "  The  freshmen  looked 
embarrassed.  Holland  turned  around.  "  Quick,  adjutant, 
the  stethoscope."  Two  students  advanced,  one  with  a 
ready-made  imitation  of  a  stethoscope  in  his  hand,  the  other 
with  a  note-book.  "Unbutton  vests,  open!"  shouted 
Holland.  The  man  with  the  instrument  pressed  it  to  the 
first  freshman's  breast,  placing  his  ear  at  the  other  end. 
The  man  with  the  book  poised  his  pencil.  The  other 
called,  "Fourteen,  thirty -one,  fifty-nine,  seventy-five, 
ninety-eight;  got  that  down?"  To  Holland,  "He  will 
do,  general."  So  on  down  the  line  they  went,  with 
variations.  One  freshman  did  not  register  enough. 
"  Below  normal,  general."  "Orderly  run  him  up  to  the 
library  and  back,"  was  the  command.  Another  was 
mounting  way  up  into  the  hundreds,  when  the  man  with 
the  instrument  called,  excitedly,  ' '  Here,  this  man  has  had 
too  much  ;  lay  him  down, ' '  and  the  frightened  youth  was 
stretched  at  full  length  on  his  back  and  fanned.  Presently 
Holland  addressed .  them  :  ' '  Attention  !  Freshmen,  you 
have  all  passed  with  the  exception  of  you  two,"  pointing. 


"The   Raw  Article  19 


"  You  go  up  to  the  doctor  of  the  Philosophy  Building  and 
ask  for  an  excuse  from  drill.  Now,  forward  march,  to  be 
measured  for  uniforms." 

With  the  crowd  that  followed,  they  filled  the  small 
armory.  Rawson,  Percy  and  George  managed  to  edge  up 
to  the  front.  "  Attention,  freshmen  !  You  are  now  about 
to  be  measured  for  the  insignia  of  your  connection  with 
this  great  university.  That  you  may  realize  the  responsi- 
bility you  undertake  and  prove  worthy  of  the  honor,  you 
will  first  answer  and  subscribe  to  these  questions."  The 
man  with  the  pencil  and  book  advanced.  Holland  cleared 
his  throat  and  threw  his  chest  forward.  Then  the,  in  turn, 
dubious,  bewildered  and  embarrassed  freshmen  were  put 
through  this  catechism  : 

"Your  age  and  place  of  birth?"  "Your  mother's 
maiden  name?"  "Your  religion?"  "Do  you  believe 
in  God  ?  "  "  Do  you  swear  to  support  the  Ten  Command- 
ments and  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States  while  a 
member  of  this  university?"  "  Do  you  smoke,  chew,  or 
drink  ?  "  and  so  forth.  Then  a  mysterious  looking,  covered 
tin  pail  was  produced,  with  a  length  of  rubber  tubing  leading 
from  a  hole  in  its  cover.  "Attention,  freshmen!"  com- 
manded Holland.  * '  This  will  test  your  powers  of  inhalation. 
Here,  Shorty,  take  hold  of  this  and  draw  in  for  a  minute 
while  I  hold  the  watch."  The  tube  was  passed  to  the 
youngest  of  the  band,  a  boy  of  not  more  than  sixteen. 
"Now  ! "  He  drew  in  deeply  and  then  spat  out  a  mouthful 
of  salt  water,  sputtering  like  a  new  swimmer.  ' '  Keep  on  ! " 
shouted  Holland,  raising  his  cane. 

Up  to  this  time  Rawson  had  viewed  the  fun  with  some- 
thing like  appreciation,  though  he  did  not  quite  approve  of 


For  the   Blue  and  Gold 


an  officer's  losing  his  dignity  to  such  an  extent,  nor  of  the 
cynical,  matter-of-fact  way  in  which  he  went  about  it,  not 
seeming  himself  to  enter  into  the  sport. 

But  James  had  all  along  had  a  sort  of  fellow-feeling  for 
the  freshmen.  Now,  his  sense  of  fair  play  reinforced  this. 
He  pulled  the  tube  from  the  poor  little  freshman's  hand. 
"I  guess  we'd  better  quit  now;  we've  had  enough." 
Everybody  was  amazed  at  his  intrepidity  —  he,  too, 
evidently  a  freshman. 

Holland's  face  turned  red  with  anger,  and  he  snapped 
out  :  "  Hold  on,  you  lanky  freshman,  we'll  give  you  some, 
too.  Give  me  that  tube.  " 

"Don't  get  excited,"  suggested  Rawson,  in  no  whit 
overawed. 

"Give  me  that  tube,  I  say,  you  hoosier  !"  and  he 
lifted  his  cane.  Quickly,  Rawson  grabbed  and  cracked  it. 

"  Come  on,  fellows,  let's  show  him,"  shouted  Holland, 
enraged,  and  made  a  dive  for  Rawson.  Nobody  responded, 
though  some  one  set  up  a  rallying  cry  of ' '  Rough  house  ! ' ' 
in  back  of  the  room.  Percy  and  George  stood  close 
to  aid  their  friend.  Rawson  caught  Holland  by  the 
arms  as  he  charged  and  pinned  them  tight.  The  latter 
kicked  and  squirmed  in  a  perfect  frenzy,  but  to  no  avail. 
Rawson' s  long  arms  clasped  him  as  a  vise.  "Let's  cool 
him  off  a  bit,  Percy,"  he  suggested.  "  Lift  the  cover  off 
that  pail. "  And,  tipping  the  struggling  captain  up  as  he 
would  a  sack,  Rawson  ducked  his  head  deep  down  into  the 
pail  of  salt  water. 

"Let  me  get  at  him  !  I'll  murder  him  !  "  spluttered 
Holland,  as  he  struggled  up.  But  his  head  was  a  tight  fit 
for  the  pail  and  he  brought  the  vessel  up  with  him  like  a 


The   Raw  Article 


21 


snuffer  on  a  candle,  spilling  the  water  over  his  clothes. 
The  onlookers  were  convulsed,  glad  to  see  the  overbearing 
Holland  put  to  shame.  While  he  was  struggling  with  the 
pail,  Percy  and  George  pulled  Rawson  from  the  room, 
laughing  heartily.  Once  outside,  they  gave  new  vent  to 
their  laughter,  Rawson  included. 

* '  Oh !  but  you're  jolly  green  to  have  forgotten  your 
place  like  that !" 

"You've  run  up  against  the  Holland  family  pretty 
hard,  haven't  you,  Jim?"  suggested  George. 


CHAPTER   III 


Getting  Under  Way 


"I'm  looking  for  a  job,  Mrs.  Saunders.  Have  you 
anything  around  here  for  me  to  do  ?  " 

Rawson  had  approached  the  old  lady  after  breakfast 
the  next  morning. 

She  eyed  him  severely.  "  Can  you  do  almost  any- 
thing, as  they  say?  " 

"  Pm  afraid  that's  too  big  a  job  for  me  to  tackle,  but 
I  think  I  could  milk  the  cow,  feed  the  chickens,  take  care 
of  the  garden,  chop  the  wood,  wash  the  dishes,  wait  on 
table,  if  you  need  any  of  these  things  done. ' ' 

"That's  better,  sir,"  nodding  her  head.  "I  had  a 
fellow  in  here  last  year  who  was  sure  he  could  do  '  almost 
anything,'  and  bit  by  bit  I  found  out  that  he  could  do 
'  almost  nothing. '  I  do  need  a  man  about  the  house  and 
you  have  hit  upon  just  what  I  want  him  to  do.  My  last 
man  gave  me  two  hours  morning  and  evening  and  one  hour 
at  noon.  Could  you  give  this  time  from  your  studies  ? ' ' 

"Yes,"  replied  James,  after  a  moment  of  thought. 
' '  What  would  it  be  worth  ?  ' ' 

"I'll  give  you  board,  room  and  washing.  You  can 
keep  your  present  room." 

* '  Call  it  a  bargain  ? ' '  asked  James. 

' '  Yes, ' '  nodded  the  old  lady.     *  *  Will  you  start  today  ? ' ' 

"Right  now." 


Getting   Under  W^ay  23 


Rawson  was  glad  to  have  it  settled.  After  paying  his 
diploma  fee  and  depositing  for  his  military  uniform,  he  had 
about  ten  dollars  left  with  which  to  pay  for  books  and  for 
his  board  bill  for  five  days.  He  realized  that  he  must  turn 
up  a  few  dollars  to  keep  the  mill  grinding,  but  it  caused 
him  no  anxiety.  He  asked  Mrs.  Saunders  for  his  bill  to 
date. 

"I'll  take  it  out  of  you  in  work." 

"No,  I  prefer  to  pay,"  he  insisted. 

She  compromised  on  four  dollars,  and  James  felt  easier. 
As  a  poor,  lone  widow,  she  was  more  than  glad  to  have  a 
strapping  big  fellow  around  for  safety.  Besides,  she  liked  a 
man  of  so  few  words. 

Rawson  informed  Percy  and  George  of  his  decision. 

"  We've  brought  some  fellows  together  and  are  going 
to  start  a  masticating  club  down  Telegraph  Avenue  way," 
said  Percy.  "Sorry  that  we'll  have  to  part  company,  but 
we'll  be  able  to  keep  track  of  one  another  on  the  campus, 
and,  maybe,  when  you  become  a  bloated  plutocrat,  too, 
you  will  join  the  Oski-Wow  Chewers." 

"I'd  like  to,  well  enough." 

James,  too,  regretted  having  to  lose  the  companionship 
of  his  two  friends,  to  whom  he  had  been  closely  drawn  dur- 
ing the  few  days  past.  First  friends  are  best.  They  had 
been  the  earliest  whom  he  had  met  at  college,  and  were 
fashioned  a  great  deal  after  his  own  pattern.  Both  were 
younger  than  he,  although  Percy  was  in  his  sophomore 
year.  Percy  had  had  the  best  advantages  of  the  three, 
having  been  educated  at  a  high-toned  private  school — a 
"  prep,"  so  called  —  down  in  the  Santa  Clara  Valley.  His 
parents  were  both  dead.  His  mother  had  left  him  and  his 


24          For  the   Blue  and  Gold 


inheritance  in  charge  of  an  old  family  friend,  who  had 
fallen  into  the  bad  habit  of  merging  his  client's  money  with 
his  own  in  a  common  fund.  An  unfortunate  wheat  deal  had 
started  a  large  leak  in  the  common  fund — in  fact,  brought 
it  below  the  margin  of  the  sum  that  was  Percy's.  So, 
packing  his  grip,  the  guardian  had  departed  for  Mexico, 
leaving  Percy,  at  graduation  time,  with  a  quarter's  tuition 
to  pay  from  the  sale  of  his  horse  and  bicycle.  Here  Percy 
justified  his  heritage.  He  did  not  look  up  his  father's  rich 
friends,  but  determined  to  go  to  college  anyway,  through 
his  own  efforts.  He  went  to  work  that  summer  and  made 
enough  to  carry  him  through  his  freshman  year. 

A  number  of  his  ' '  prep ' '  classmates  entered  college 
with  him.  Nearly  all  being  desirables,  they  were,  one  after 
another,  "rushed"  by  fraternities.  A  few,  who  had  not 
learned  of  the  change  in  Percy's  condition,  had  started  in  to 
help  rush  him  for  this  frat  or  that,  but,  upon  being  informed 
by  mutual  friends  that  they  were  merely  placing  Percy  in  an 
embarrassing  position,  they  had  desisted.  Percy  was,  nat- 
urally, a  little  touchy  about  his  "fallen  fortunes."  In 
truth,  he  became  just  a  trifle  morbid  upon  the  subject, 
although  otherwise  in  the  best  of  health,  mental  and  phys- 
ical. He  thought  that  he  saw  an  alteration  in  the  bearing 
of  his  erstwhile  companions.  This  existed  merely  in  his 
imagination.  Nevertheless,  it  was  real  enough  to  him,  and 
caused  a  reaction  in  his  conduct  toward  them.  He  put  on 
a  studied  stiffness  of  mien  with  these,  and  began  ardently  to 
cultivate  the  company  of  their  opposites.  He  had  kicked 
over  the  traces  even  in  his  attitude  as  a  sophomore  toward 
the  incoming  freshmen.  This  accounts,  in  a  measure,  for 
his  cultivation  of  George  and  James,  two  raw,  ineligible 


Getting   Under  W^ay  25 


freshmen,  an  act  somewhat  uncommon  in  college,  where 
Damon  and  Pythias  do  not  usually  belong  to  different 
classes. 

Percy  fell  not  far  short  of  James  in  height.  He  was  an 
even  five  feet  eleven,  "with  his  hair  combed."  He  was 
framed  on  a  trimmer  plan  than  James  ;  weighed  about 
fifteen  pounds  less  than  the  latter.  He  had  played  half- 
back on  his  freshman  football  team  the  previous  year  and 
substitute  on  the  varsity,  and  had  his  eye  on  the  varsity 
for  the  coming  season. 

George,  on  the  other  hand,  was  in  marked  contrast  to 
the  other  two,  both  physically  and  mentally.  He  was  five 
feet  four,  and  almost  as  broad  as  long.  * '  Cub, ' '  his  nick- 
name, was  an  indication  of  both  characteristics.  His  heavy, 
broad  hands,  spatulate  fingers  and  thick  wrists  had  been 
made  for  the  hammer,  and  all  his  thoughts  were  on  machin- 
ery. He  was  a  good  mathematician,  but  did  not  amount  to 
much  in  the  "humanities"  —  took  no  stock  in  them.  In 
fact,  their  graces  were  foreign  to  the  operations  of  his  mind, 
which  ran  to  plain  figures,  not  to  figures  of-  speech.  Kip- 
ling's  was  the  only  poetry  that  he  could  tolerate,  "  Me  An- 
drew's Hymn,"  his  favorite,  especially  the  lines  beginning  : 

"Whaurto  —  uplifted  like  the  Just — the  tail-rods  mark 
the  time. 

The  crank-throws   give  the    double-bass ;    the  feed- 
pump sobs  an'  heaves : 

An*   now  the  main  eccentrics  start  their  quarrel  on 
the  sheaves. 

Her  time,  her  own  appointed  time,  the  rocking  link- 
head  bides, 

Till—  hear  that  note?— the  rod's  return  whings  glim- 
merin'  through  the  guides." 


26          For  the   Blue  and   Gold 


But  George,  though  uncut  and  unpolished,  was 
diamond,  nevertheless,  as  those  who  knew  him  came  to 
realize.  He  soon  joined  the  "mining  push,"  where  he  was 
thoroughly  at  home,  and  of  which  he  became  a  leader 
before  his  fourth  year  was  finished. 

Mrs.  Saunders'  " select  students'  boarding-house"  was 
now  running  to  its  full  capacity,  and  the  landlady,  with 
twelve  hungry  mouths  to  satisfy  at  every  meal,  had  her 
ingenuity  taxed  to  its  limit  in  the  division  of  meat  sufficient 
for  ten. 

At  James'  first  appearance  in  a  long  white  apron  the 
company  stared. 

"Great  stilts!  what's  this?"  exclaimed  Herbert 
Edwards  to  his  co-ed  neighbor,  as  Rawson  came  swinging 
in,  three  steps  from  the  door  to  the  table.  But  James  was 
as  to  the  manner  born  —  which  he  wouldn't  thank  me  for 
saying.  He  placed  the  steaming  platter  before  the  hostess, 
retired  for  the  vegetables,  and  was  handing  around  bread 
and  delivering  plates  with  the  grace  of  a  Chesterfield. 

The  co-eds'  first  giggles,  and  likewise  those  of  two 
young  freshmen,  were  stifled  before  such  earnestness  and 
adaptability.  Mrs.  Saunders  eyed  her  "help"  with  satis- 
faction. 

Their  first  wants  appeased,  James  retired  to  a  corner  to 
study  "his"  boarders.  They  were  divided,  as  to  sex,  into 
eight  men  students  and  four  co-eds.  Of  the  latter,  three 
did  not  interest  him,  but  the  fourth  held  his  attention.  She 
appeared  to  be  a  stockily  built  girl  in  a  plain  shirt-waist  and 
white  collar.  Her  brown  hair,  soft  and  wavy,  was  evenly 
parted  in  the  middle  of  her  head  and  smoothed  down  over 


Getting   Under  Way  27 


her  ears.  But  James'  glance  lingered  on  her  forehead,  which 
was  of  a  type  unusual  in  a  woman,  not  rounded,  with  two 
well-developed  bumps  of  what  the  phrenologists  call 
eventuality,  slanting  slightly  back  over  her  eyebrows. 
James  himself  had  just  such  a  forehead,  although  he  hadn't 
noticed  it.  The  co-ed  seemed  to  be  frowning.  Two 
vertical  lines  ran  parallel  between  her  brows.  "  Pretty 
sober  looking  for  a  girl,"  thought  Rawson,  "but  I  bet 
she's  all  right." 

"What  do  you  think  of  the  football  outlook,  Mr. 
Davis?"  asked  Robbins,  the  wee  freshman,  in  a  laudable 
desire  to  start  the  conversational  ball  a-rolling. 

Davis  pushed  his  spectacles  up,  tried  to  take  the  kink 
out  of  his  shoulders,  and  looked  severe.  "I  haven't 
followed  the  football  situation.  If  a  man  comes  here  to 
work,  Mr.  Robbins,  as  you'll  soon  find  out,  he  has  to  let 
football  and  kindred  diversions  alone.  You'll  be  compelled 
to  put  in  five  hours  a  week  at  gymnasium  and  drill,  and  I 
have  found  that  that  cuts  a  big  hole  into  a  fellow's  study 
time  —  time  that  he  can  ill  spare.  As  ,for  football,  its 
pursuit  is  incompatible  with  proper  college  work."  And 
Davis  looked  severely  over  in  the  direction  of  a  chair  at 
the  other  end  of  the  table.  Its  occupant  smiled  quietly. 

"Say,  Dick,  have  you  worked  off  that  condition  in 
analytical  mechanics  yet?"  came  the  question  from  the 
other  end,  addressed  to  the  man  with  the  quiet  smile. 

Davis  was  triumphant.  The  conversation  had  come 
right  his  way.  "There,"  he  said,  with  conviction,  "we 
have  a  slight  insight  into  one  of  the  prices  that  a  fellow  pays 
for  football  fame.  Mr.  Hawley,  you  know,  is  our  captain, " 
in  a  voice  of  asperity. 


2g          For  the   Blue  and  Gold 


Robbins  turned  red  and  the  raised  cup  trembled  in  his 
hand.  What  a  frightful  mistake  he  had  made.  How 
stupid  he  must  have  appeared  not  to  have  known  the 
famous  football  player.  "  I  —  I  —  I — beg  your  pardon, 
Mr.  Hawley,"  he  stuttered. 

"  Don't  mention  it.  Davis  and  I  have  agreed  to  disa- 
gree on  the  subject  of  football.  You  would  not  think  from 
the  way  that  he  speaks  of  my  cinches  that  if  it  had  not  been 
for  him  they  would  have  numbered  three  and  not  two.  Yes, 
and  but  for  Miss  Gray  here  (indicating  Rawson's  young 
lady)  I  surely  would  have  had  another  one  in  conies, ' '  and 
he  seemed  to  enjoy  the  recital  of  what,  to  Davis,  was  a  tale 
of  shame. 

"But  you  must  consider,"  began  Miss  Gray,  looking 
up,  ' '  that  the  faculty  asks  too  much  of  the  athletes.  From 
the  president  down  they  say  that  athletics  are  a  good  thing. 
They  also  admit  that  it  is  through  the  few  picked  athletes 
that  the  other  students  are  stimulated.  And  they  come  to 
the  games  and  shout  as  loudly  and  feel  as  proud  as  anybody. 
Yet,  when  a  man  takes  upon  himself  all  the  hard  work  of 
training  —  spends  four  or  five  hours  a  day  for  the  benefit  of 
the  college — the  faculty  turns  about  and  sets  up  a  higher 
standard  of  scholarship  for  him  than  for  an  ordinary 
student.  He  must  not  have  more  than  seven  hours  of  con- 
ditions. There  is  no  such  restriction  placed  upon  the  bum 
on  North  Hall  steps.  Don't  you  think  it  is  a  little  incon- 
sistent, Mr.  Davis?'* 

"Thank  you,  Miss  Gray,"  spoke  up  Hawley.  "I 
now  feel  amply  vindicated  and  my  self-respect  is  quite 
restored." 

In  the  interval,  little  Robbins'  poise  returned  and  he 


I 

o 

cr 


Getting   Under  Way  29 

plied  Hawley  with  a  perfect  volley  of  questions  during  the 
rest  of  the  meal,  to  the  utter  neglect  of  his  chops  and 
hot  cakes. 

His  morning  duties  over,  James  picked  up  his  note- 
book, and,  with  a  blithe  heart,  stepped  up  the  campus  to 
his  first  recitation. 

The  days  now  began  to  repeat  themselves  with 
uniformity  as  Rawson  fell  into  his  work.  He  was  entering 
upon  a  new  world  and  every  moment  had  its  charm.  He 
sprang  to  his  duties  with  eagerness  which  did  not  abate 
before  the  drudgery  that  took  up  almost  half  the  day.  He 
was  up  with  the  midsummer  sun  and  did  not  turn  his  lamp 
out  until  ten  or  eleven  at  night.  But  between  these  hours 
he  had  a  few  free  periods,  when  he  did  a  little  wholesome 
lounging,  made  acquaintances,  and  found  out  college  manners 
and  customs.  On  this  point,  he  was  at  a  disadvantage,  com- 
pared with  most  of  the  other  freshmen,  who  had  come  from 
secondary  schools.  They  had,  to  begin  with,  quite  a  circle 
of  friends  of  former  school  days,  not  only  those  who  had 
come  in  with  them,  but  also  such  as  had  preceded  them 
from  the  same  schools.  Then,  they  had  talked  over  college 
affairs  so  much  in  their  "prep"  days  that  matters  of  form 
and  those  infinite  c '  red  tape ' '  details  which  confront  a 
student  at  every  step  in  his  freshman  year  were  somewhat 
familiar  to  them. 

But  Rawson  was  working  off  his  handicap  every  day, 
making  acquaintances  with  other  members  of  his  class  on 
campus  and  in  recitation  rooms.  It  is  not  hard  to  make 
friends  at  California.  ' '  Say,  how  do  you  work  this 
problem?"  or  "Have  you  got  your  English?"  is  all  the 
introduction  necessary.  Sophomores,  juniors  and  seniors 


30          For  the  Blue  and  Gold 


all. looked  alike  to  James  at  first.  A  regularly  "prepped" 
freshman  would  never  have  dared  to  do  what  he  had  done 
in  the  armory. 

He  did  not  feel  the  other  freshmen's  diffidence  about 
approaching  upper  classmen.  He  had  the  country  way  of 
saying  '  *  good  morning  "  to  everybody  he  met.  And  many 
an  upper  classman  who  would  have  passed  a  "kid  freshie  " 
unnoticed  (Rawson,  let  it  be  noted,  was  about  five  years 
older  than  the  average  freshman)  unbent  to  James. 

As  for  the  freshman-sophomore  '  *  mutual  disregard  " 
that  plays  so  large  a  part  in  the  first  two  years  at  college, 
Rawson  was  amused  by  it,  because  he  could  not  understand 
it.  However,  he  was  soon  to  be  enlightened  on  this  point. 

Rawson' s  busiest  days  were  Mondays,  Wednesdays 
and  Fridays.  On  each  of  these  he  had  four  recitations, 
besides  drill  and  gymnasium.  On  Tuesdays,  Thursdays 
and  Saturdays  he  had  but  one  hour  of  recitation. 

In  classroom,  James  took  matters  almost  too  earnestly. 
He  gave  his  undivided  attention  to  the  instructor,  because 
that,  thought  he,  was  what  they  were  both  there  for.  His 
chair  remained  unadorned  by  initials  or  class  number.  His 
hand  was  first  and  invariably  up  if  a  question  were  asked.  In 
his  English  course  the  young  instructor  noticed  this  before  the 
week  was  out,  and,  glad  to  have  Somebody  to  talk  to  who 
seemed  well  awake  in  the  lazy  atmosphere,  he  fell  into  the 
habit  of  speaking  straight  at  James.  Most  of  the  new 
freshmen  held  the  Minto  course  for  a  bore,  because  there 
was  too  much  " digging"  attached  to  it.  James  took  act- 
ual pleasure  in  this.  It  was  something  to  grapple  with. 
Physics  was  opening  up  an  entirely  new  world  to  him  —  the 
world  he  lived  in.  German,  too,  was  something  entirely 


Getting   Under  If^ay  31 


new.  He  had  never  before  heard  it  spoken,  and  he  was  a 
source  of  amusement  to  both  instructor  and  students  when- 
ever his  stiff  tongue  tried  to  frame  the  Teutonic  gutterals. 
But  this  made  James  only  the  more  determined  to  master 
the  difficulties,  and  as  he  went  about  his  duties,  he  would 
mutter  German  sentences  to  himself,  until  Mrs.  Saunders 
would  look  askance  at  her  help. 

The  hourly  succession  of  recitations,  with  its  hurried 
march  from  one  room  or  building  to  another,  had  some- 
thing of  exhilaration  in  it  for  Rawson.  He  liked  to  feel 
himself  part  of  the  hurrying  crowd,  grabbing  books  and 
jumping  up  from  seats  at  the  tap  of  the  first  bell,  and  push- 
ing out  into  the  hallway  and  on  to  the  stairs,  meeting  an 
opposing,  jostling  current  coming  from  where  it  had  just 
been.  There  was,  added  to  this  exhilaration  at  feeling  him- 
self one  of  these  eager  pursuers  of  knowledge,  an  invaria- 
ble, pleasing  anticipation  attending  the  transition  from  one 
study  to  another.  The  periods  were  not  long  enough  to 
dull  one's  interest,  and,  at  the  end  of  fifty  minutes,  there 
was  waiting  a  subject,  maybe  the  antithesis,  complement,  or 
foil  to  the  one  just  left. 

Then  there  were  the  study  periods  up  in  the  library,  in 
the  "boys'"  room  at  the  side — study,  alas,  often  under 
difficulties  which  called  up  the  greatest  efforts  of  concentra- 
tion, notwithstanding  the  helpful  assistance  of  the  Prince  of 
Silence.  One  would  be  sitting  engrossed  in  an  intricate 
problem  in  math,  just  on  the  point  of  solution,  when  along 
comes  a  healthy  freshman  (or  senior),  pulls  his  chair  out 
with  grating  violence,  bangs  his  books  on  the  table,  and 
calls  out  in  a  stage  whisper,  "  Anybody  got  a  Califor- 
nian?"  After  which  the  football  situation  is  discussed  in 


32          For  the   Blue  and   Gold 


the  same  whisper.  Or,  "  Give  us  a  lift  with  this  translation, 
will  you  ? ' '  Then  it  is  time  to  flee.  Nevertheless,  the 
little  side  room,  with  its  hourly  commotion  of  departures 
and  arrivals,  has  a  fascination  and  Rawson  felt  it  so  soon 
that  he  never  looked  for  quieter  quarters. 

All  in  all,  James  Rawson  was  entering  upon  the  happiest 
period  of  his  life,  happy  no  less  because  it  was  filled  with 
good,  hard  work.  All  day  his  heart  sang  within  him  and 
in  sheer  overflowing  of  animal  spirits  he  would  sometimes 
have  to  break  away  across  fields,  leaping  fences  and  ditches 
like  a  frisky  kangaroo. 


CHAPTER  IV 

The   Rush 


1 '  Freshmen,  your  future  lies  before  you.  You  have  a 
reputation  to  establish.  Make  a  good  beginning  by  tying 
up  your  natural  enemies,  the  sophs.  Justify  the  confidence 
we  juniors  place  in  you.  Keep  up  the  good  record  of  the 
victorious  odd-numbered  classes.  Don't  be  afraid  of  crack- 
ing a  few  necks  or  skulls.  Don't  be  afraid  of  breaking  a 
few  legs  or  arms.  A  couple  of  sophomores  more  or  less  in 
the  world  —  what  does  that  matter?  It's  all  in  the  game. 
They'll  do  you,  if  you  don't  do  them.  Any  kind  of 
rough  house  goes  in  the  rush." 

Thus  exhorted  the  man  in  the  tattered  gray  plug  hat 
who  had  called  the  freshman  rabble  to  order  so  that  arrange- 
ments might  be  made  for  the  great  annual  freshman-sopho- 
more rush.  His  malicious  exhortation  had  its  intended 
effect.  An  uneasy  rustling  animated  the  roomful  of  fresh- 
men. 

"  I  had  no  idea  it  was  so  rough,"  apprehensively  whis- 
pered Robbins,  a  wee  freshman,  to  his  neighbor. 

* '  No  more  kid  play  when  you  come  to  college, 
Bobby,"  was  the  confident  rejoinder.  "We'll  meet  them 
more  than  halfway  when  it  comes  to  cracking  nuts." 

Nevertheless,  little  ripples  of  fear  were  even  then  begin- 
ning to  glide  up  and  down  the  answerer's  backbone.  The 
junior's  words,  sinking  in  all  over  the  room,  were  the  first 


34          For  the   Blue  and  Gold 


weights  in  the  handicap  of  fear  that  each  freshman  was  to 
carry  into  the  rush. 

The  junior  continued : 

1 '  We  will  now  proceed  to  the  election  of  a  leader.  As 
you  ought  to  have  known,  the  prex  leads  the  rush.  But 
with  the  prex  that  you  have  elected  that  is  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. He  is  sick  tonight  and  can  not  be  here.  So,  now 
that  he  is  out  of  it,  we'll  have  to  elect  a  separate  rush 
leader.  I  hope  you  understand  what  is  wanted  —  your 
biggest  and  huskiest  rough-houser." 

There  was  a  story  behind  this  allusion  —  that  of  a  hun- 
dred-and-ten-pound  freshman  coming  to  college  with  wires 
all  laid  from  his  prep  to  be  first  class  president,  and  of  his 
defeating  a  hundred- and-seventy-five-pound  rival,  who,  in 
view  of  the  rush,  was  the  logical  candidate.  Later,  when 
he  realized  the  job  that  was  on  his  hands,  the  new  president 
had  promised  to  throw  his  support  to  the  defeated  aspirant 
for  the  temporary  office  of  rush  leader. 

This  was  the  ' '  slate. ' '  But  George  Thornton  had 
other  views.  He  intended  to  break  it,  and  with  James.  To 
this  end,  without  consulting  the  latter,  he  had  sought  out  the 
freshman  victims  of  Holland's  uniform  measuring  joke,  and, 
with  them  as  a  nucleus,  had  started  a  Rawson  boom  for 
rush  leader.  This,  though  less  than  six  hours  old,  was 
thriving,  for  the  armory  story  had  been  widely  spread,  and 
as  James  walked  up  the  campus  he  was  pointed  out  as  the 
freshman  who  had  ducked  Captain  Holland.  George  and 
the  nucleus  were  now  occupying  front  seats. 

"  Nominations  are  in  order  for  rush  leader.'* 

"  I  nominate  Tom  Edwards." 

Several  seconds.     This  was  the  slate. 


The   Rush  35 


"I  nominate  James  Rawson,  the  man  who  broke  up 
the  uniform  measuring  josh,"  sang  out  George's  stentorian 
voice. 

"Second  the  nomination."  " Second  it."  "Sec- 
ond it." 

James  had  arrived  late  and  was  standing  at  the  back  of 
the  room.  One  of  the  "joshed"  freshmen  saw  him  and 
set  up  a  yell : 

' '  Good  boy,  Rawson  ! ' ' 

A  hiss  sounded  from  the  middle  of  the  room. 

"  Come  to  order.  You  can  have  any  one  you  want. 
Nominations  are  now  closed.  All  of  you  may  not  know 
the  candidates.  Step  up  here,  Edwards  and  Rawson,  and 
show  yourselves. ' ' 

James  was  greatly  embarrassed  by  so  much  publicity. 
Besides,  he  barely  knew  what  it  was  all  about.  His  lack  of 
prep  training  caused  him  to  be  out  of  touch  with  college 
manners  and  customs.  Why  had  George  nominated  him  ? 
He  hung  back. 

"Go  along,"  urged  the  freshman  who  had  started  the 
cheer. 

"Where  is  Rawson?" 

"Here  he  is,  back  here." 

George  elbowed  his  way  back. 

"Come  along,  Jim,  and  show  yourself.  When  they 
see  you,  you'll  get  it.  You've  as  much  right  as  the  other 
fellow." 

He  locked  his  arm  in  James',  and  they  worked  their 
way  to  the  front. 

James,  red  about  the  ears,  took  his  place  beside 
Edwards,  who  sized  him  up  askance.  Edwards  was  a 


36          For  the   Blue  and  Gold 


florid,  muscular  youth  of  about  eighteen,  somewhat  shorter 
than  James,  but  stockily  built.  Rawson's  more  mature 
appearance  was  in  his  favor.  They  both  felt  themselves  the 
cynosure  of  every  eye.  The  situation  was  embarrassing  in 
the  extreme.  To  relieve  it,  James  held  out  his  hand. 

"Let's  shake,  Mr.  Edwards,  just  to  show  there's  no  ill 
feeling."  The  movement  was  well  taken  by  the  onlooking 
freshmen. 

11  Freshmen,  you  can't  make  a  mistake,"  announced 
the  junior.  "  What  one  lacks  in  breadth  he  makes  up  in 
height,  and  vice  versa.  You  pays  your  money  and  takes 
your  choice." 

Tellers  had  been  appointed.  The  vote  was  taken. 
Tense  excitement  prevailed  during  the  five  minutes  in  which 
the  ballots  were  being  sorted. 

"  Order  !"  shouted  the  junior.  "  Total  vote  cast,  two 
hundred  and  ninety-eight.  Edwards,  one  hundred  and 
forty-seven  ;  Rawson,  one  hundred  and  fifty-one.  Rawson 
is  it." 

"Rawson,  Rawson,  good  boy,  Rawson!"  "Speech, 
speech  ! ' '  came  the  cries. 

James'  embarrassment  increased.  He  had  never  before 
heard  his  name  shouted  in  public  like  this.  George,  slap- 
ping him  on  the  back,  pushed  him  up  to  the  platform. 

"Classmates,  I  —  classmates,  I — I  thank  you  for  the 
honor,"  he  stammered.  "I'm  new  at  rushes,  but  from 
what  I've  gathered  here  they  are  not  unlike  those  we  used 
to  gather  in  the  marsh."  Here  James  braced  himself  for 
a  pun.  "Bulrushes,  I  mean."  (A  voice:  "You  bet, 
we'll  toss  them,  all  right.")  "  We're  going  to  have  a  tus- 
sle with  the  sophomores  and  try  to  tie  them  up  with  pieces 


The   Rush  37 


of  rope.     That  ought  not  to  be  such  a  serious  matter." 
(Cries  :     ' '  No,  no  !     We'  11  win  in  a  walk. ' ' ) 

"Maybe  we  won' twin  in  a  walk,  but  we' 11  win  in  a  rush, 
anyway."  (A  variety  of  appreciative  calls  :  "You've  got 
the  idea,  Rawson."  The  freshman  spirits  are  rising.) 
James  concludes:  "What  we  lack  in  experience,  we'll 
make  up  in  willingness  and  numbers.  They  can't  beat  us  if 
we  stand  all  together.  Let's  go  into  it  good-naturedly,  con- 
fidently, but  to  win.  I'll  be  with  you  all  the  time." 

James  sat  down,  wiping  his  forehead.  His  speech 
raised  the  spirits  of  the  freshmen  wonderfully.  After  a  few 
matters  of  detail  had  been  disposed  of,  the  meeting 
adjourned,  with  everybody  in  high  feather,  trying  to  shout, 
in  unison,  a  brand  new  class  yell. 

Rawson  at  once  found  himself  an  important  personage 
in  his  class.  Within  a  day  he  was  on  speaking  terms  with 
nearly  every  freshman  in  college.  There  was  much  to  be 
done  and  much  to  be  learned.  James  entered  into  it  with  a 
will,  his  Anglo-Saxon  heritage  speaking  out  with  lust  for  a 
scrimmage.  Upon  inquiry,  he  learned  that  it  was  part  of 
the  sophomores'  plan  to  try  to  strike  terror  to  the  hearts  of 
the  green  freshmen  by  hair-raising  yells,  whoops  and  other 
bluffing  devices,  and  that  the  junior's  remarks  about  neck- 
cracking  were  yarns  intended  to  fortify  the  freshmen  with 
bitter  resolve.  James  felt  that  the  effect  could  not  be  good, 
so  he  made  an  effort  to  counteract  it  in  his  talks  with  his 
classmates.  But  his  influence  was  in  many  cases  but  tem- 
porary, for  along  would  come  a  malicious  junior  or  senior 
and  undo  his  work  with  the  same  old  yarns  :  "  Look  out  for 
knives  in  boot-legs,"  or,  "If  you  see  that  you  can't  tie  your 
man  up,  step  on  his  vertebrae  ;  that'll  put  him  out  for  good." 


38          For  the   Blue  and  Gold 


"  Hey  there,  Jim,  I  hear  that  you're  agoing  to  lead 
the  freshmen  in  the  rush!"  greeted  Percy.  " Sorry,  old 
man,  but  you're  up  agin  it  hard.  We'll  simply  swallow  you 
freshmen,  boots  and  all." 

"You'll  realize  that  you've  been  dining  if  you  do," 
laughingly  replied  James.  "  Say,  Percy,  here  I'm  rush- 
leader,  but  blessed  if  I  know  what  it's  all  about.  What 
have  we  against  you  sophomores,  or  you  against  us  that  we 
should  formally  wage  war?  " 

"There  are  not  many  who  could  give  you  a  satisfactory 
answer  to  that.  As  I  size  it  up,  the  mutual  anti-sentiment 
is  something  like  this :  The  sophomore  has  a  feeling  of 
contempt  for  the  freshman,  something  like  that  the  fellow 
who  has  just  had  a  certain  experience  has  for  the  man  who 
is  just  about  to  get  it  — the  feeling  of  the  brand  new  journey- 
man for  the  brand  new  apprentice  boy.  On  the  freshman 
side,  it  amounts  to  a  resentment  of  that  arrogance.  They 
know  how  slight  is  the  foundation  for  it.  So  there  has  to 
be  a  scrap.  But  I  tell  you  one  good  that  the  rush  does  for 
the  freshmen.  It  makes  them  acquainted,  just  as  soldiers, 
fighting  side  by  side,  get  acquainted.  In  standing  up  at 
the  outset  against  a  common  enemy,  the  separate  atoms  of 
stranger  freshmen  form  into  something  like  a  united  whole. 
It  gives  class  spirit.  But  say,  Jim,  for  the  time  we're 
enemies,  and  if  we're  seen  together  it'll  look  fishy.  From 
now  on  through  the  rush  I  give  you  fair  warning  that  I'm 
going  to  try  every  way  possible  to  do  you  and  your  class 
up,  and  you  can  do  the  same.  So  sheer  off.  Shake  first." 

' '  Shake  ! '  *  They  parted,  both  laughing.  James 
hadn't  thought  of  that  before.  Here  was  Percy,  his  first 
college  friend,  going  to  fight  against  him  and  for  the 


The   Rush  39 


moment  he  was  sober.  But,  pshaw  !  It  was  only  play  ! 
However,  he  was  of  two  minds  as  to  that  before  it  was  all 
over. 

Down  at  Dwight  Way  Station,  the  busy,  important 
juniors,  in  their  gray  plugs,  their  pockets  stuffed  with  lengths 
of  rope,  were  marshaling  the  freshman  cohorts.  "Hi 
there,  Rawson,  get  those  freshmen  of  yours  into  line  down 
there,  four  abreast ! "  "  Say,  this  is  a  holy  mob  of  sheep 
we've  got  here,  isn't  it?  Biggest  gang  of  freshies  I  ever 
saw.  If  numbers  can  win,  they  ought  to  wipe  the  ground 
with  the  sophs." 

A  few  freshmen  heard  this  colloquy  and  set  up  a  yell 
of  defiance  and  confidence. 

''Save  your  wind  for  the  sophs,  freshmen  ;  you'll  need 
all  you've  got."  The  signal  by  which  the  freshmen  might 
know  one  another  in  the  heat  of  the  fight  was  now  given 
and  rehearsed. 

Now  they  were  all  in  line,  and  the  column  started  off, 
its  yelling  and  singing  echoed  by  the  cries  of  the  Berkeley 
"town  muckers"  who  came  tagging  along.  This  night 
every  Berkeley  boy  of  every  degree  observes.  It  is  the 
great  chance  of  the  year  to  see  a  free  fight  —  and  such  a 
fight! 

The  freshman  costumes  afford  no  end  of  amusement  to 
onlookers.  Many  are  the  comments  on  the  crazy  college 
fellows.  Baseball  suits,  football  suits,  grimy  overalls,  vari- 
colored sweaters  and  coats  turned  inside  out,  are  among  the 
variety  of  costumes.  Some  wear  no  coats,  but  content 
themselves  with  vests  turned  inside  out.  Few  wear  hats,  as 
these  will  soon  be  superfluous.  Instead,  they  are  thrust 


4o          For  the  Blue  and  Gold 


into  pockets  for  safe  keeping.  At  the  head  of  the  proces- 
sion, with  the  juniors,  walks  James,  gotten  up  regardless  of 
appearance  in  his  gardening  overalls  and  an  old  cutaway 
coat  turned  inside  out  and  buttoned  closely  under  his  chin. 
Beneath  the  coat  —  well,  "  least  worn,  soonest  mended,"  he 
had  said  to  himself.  The  coat-tails  bobbed  erratically  be- 
hind. His  long,  stiff  hair  hung  stiffer  than  ever.  Judging 
by  appearances,  James  would  not  have  been  a  safe  man  to 
meet  alone  on  a  dark  road  that  night. 

"  Oh,  we'll  rush  'em  and  we'll  mush  'em, 
We'll  do  'em  and  we'll  chew  'em, 
We'll  bind  'em  and  we'll  grind  'em  in  defeat ! 
So  the  measly  sophomore  he  will  never  brag  no  more, 
For  the  frisky  freshman's  rope  he'll  have  to  eat " 

chanted  the  exultant  column,  as,  with  arms  locked,  they 
stepped  briskly  along.  E pluribus  unum  bonds  were  being 
formed  by  groups  of  threes  or  fours,  who  were  agreeing  to 
stand  together  and  fall  together  if  need  be,  but  not  to 
separate ;  for  this,  they  had  heard,  was  the  best  way  to  rush. 

"Do  you  think  we'll  beat  them? ' '  was  the  oft-repeated, 
eager  query  whenever  a  junior's  ear  could  be  caught. 

"Don't  know.  A  rush  is  like  an  election — you 
never  know  who's  it  until  all  the  votes — or  victims — are 
counted." 

Now,  with  an  ever-increasing  crowd  behind,  the  column 
swings  from  the  shadow  of  the  oaks  into  the  open  space  of 
the  lower  campus.  The  moon  is  just  coming  up  over 
South  Hall,  throwing  the  campus  into  bold  relief.  The 
column  of  fours  is  now  changed  to  a  single  line,  stretching 
diagonally  across  the  gridiron,  with  its  face  towards  North 
Hall  and  the  slope  in  front  of  it.  The  townspeople  close  in 


The    Rush  41 


tightly  on  two  sides,  forming  a  lane,  down  which  the  sopho- 
mores must  come  to  get  at  their  opponents.  Here  and 
there  bustle  the  important  juniors,  waving  their  lengths  of 
rope  in  the  air  and  giving  a  multitude  of  counsel  to  the 
freshmen. 

And  here  begins  the  most  trying  time — the  wait  before 
battle.  Somewhere  up  yonder,  back  of  North  Hall,  the 
enemy  is  forming  and  preparing  to  swoop  down  upon  the 
waiting  freshmen.  But  the  sophomores  are  taking  their 
time  about  it,  well  knowing  from  sad  experience  of  the 
previous  year  how  much  starch  every  minute  of  inactive 
suspense  is  taking  out  of  the  freshman  backbones.  Tense 
and  expectant,  with  every  nerve  strung  to  its  utmost,  with 
every  heart  throbbing  like  a  feed-pump,  the  freshman  line, 
in  these  few  minutes,  completely  loses  the  bolstered-up  con- 
fidence with  which  it  had  started  from  Dwight  Way. 

"Will  they  never  come?"  "Hark!  what  was  that 
rumbling  noise  ?  "  "  Ha  !  there  they  are  !  No. ' ' 

"Do  you  think  there's  anything  in  those  yarns  of 
neck-cracking  that  the  juniors  were  getting  off?  "  nervously 
inquires  Robbins,  the  wee  freshman,  of  his  companion. 
Their  arms  are  locked  and  the  other  feels  Rabbins'  heart 
go  thump,  thump  against  his  elbow,  painfully  distinct.  He 
looks  into  his  friend's  white  face.  Robbins  is  only  sixteen 
years — a  bright,  precocious  boy,  who  has  taken  classes 
in  school  as  a  youth  goes  up  stairs,  two  at  a  time.  He 
should  not  have  been  there.  His  teeth  are  chattering  now, 
but  he  is  determined  to  show  his  classmates  that  he  is  more 
than  a  mere  "mama's  boy." 

Will  they  never  come,  and  what  will  happen  when  they 
do?  Robbins  catches  tight  hold  of  the  other's  arm  to 


42          For  the    Blue  and   Gold 


prevent  his  feet  from  carrying  him  away.  The  arm  hugs 
his.  "  N — no,  Bobby,  I  don't  think  it's  so  serious,"  comes 
the  halting  answer.  Robbins'  disease  is  contagious.  The 
other's  one  hundred  [and  sixty  pounds  are  assuming  the 
stability  of  a  leaf.  They  both  are  undergoing  an  attack  of 
"rush  fright,"  had  they  only  known  it — a  weakness  that 
has  seized  the  stoutest  freshman  in  his  day.  And  they  are 
not  alone  in  that  long,  wavering  line. 

Up  and  down  goes  James,  with  the  juniors,  counseling 
and  hearkening.  He  gives  Robbins  a  pat  on  the  shoulder. 
"  Tie  'em  up  tight,  now,  so  they  won't  break  loose." 

Robbins  straightens  up  and  nods  with  an  uncertain 
smile.  James  had  thought  out  all  sorts  of  plans  and  forma- 
tions with  which  to  meet  the  attack.  But  each  one,  upon 
presentation  to  the  juniors  for  an  opinion,  has  been  voted 
down. 

"It's  no  use  making  a  plan.  Your  soldiers  are  too 
young.  They'  11  forget  it  the  minute  the  sophomores  strike 
them.  Just  line  up  and  catch  hold.' ' 

"Hark  !  what  was  that?  There,  there,  they  come  !" 
A  jubilant  cry  from  the  waiting  freshmen,  as  a  long,  trailing 
mass  appears  on  the  road  above.  Now  they  are  among  the 
trees.  Hey,  there  they  come.  Hurrah !  The  ninety 
even  cry  sounds  out  aggressively ;  ninety  odd  throws  it 
back.  Now  the  rush  fright  holds  sway  but  a  moment  more 
and  then  is  to  be  forgotten  in  the  heat  of  conflict.  Out  of 
the  trees  they  break,  plainly  visible  now.  Hordes  of  them, 
urged  on  by  the  seniors  in  black  plugs.  Ear-splitting 
whoops  and  yells.  Down  they  swoop  in  a  long,  waving 
line.  The  freshmen  get  ready  to  spring. 

"Steady,     boys;     let     them     come,"     yells    James 


The   Rush  43 


excitedly,  waving  his  arms.  Suddenly,  when  less  than  a 
dozen  yards  away,  the  cry  is  ' '  Halt ! ' '  and  the  line  of 
shouting  sophomores  comes  to  an  abrupt  pause,  like  that  of 
the  lion  preparing  to  spring. 

"Now,  sick  'em  !  Rush  !"  yell  seniors  and  juniors. 
The  long  lines  spring  for  each  other  like  a  multitude  of  bull- 
dogs. A  score  of  freshmen,  it  must  be  said,  and  among 
them  many  stout  of  limb,  weaken  at  this  crucial  moment 
and  sneak  off  unobserved,  thus  handicapping  their  class  at 
the  outset. 

The  rush  is  on.  First,  pushing,  heaving,  grappling  ; 
some  are  lifted  high  into  the  air  by  the  pressure.  Then 
they  begin  to  squirm  and  scramble  as  they  endeavor  to  pull 
each  other  to  the  ground.  In  a  minute  the  two  lines  are  a 
wriggling  mass  of  arms  and  legs  pawing  up  the  earth. 
Above  them,  like  wild  Indians,  dance  the  juniors  and 
seniors  yelling  encouragement  and  round  about,  also,  dance 
the  spectators  in  their  excitement.  On  the  edge  hovers 
timidly  many  a  throbbing  co-ed,  hoping  and  fearing  for 
class  or  for  friend. 

Thump  !  Grunt !  Pull !  Haul  !  Kick  !  By  a  pro- 
cess of  selection  the  wriggling  mass  breaks  up  into  small 
groups,  and  the  conflict  becomes  individual.  All  over  the 
field  struggle  the  contending  forces  in  twos,  threes,  fives,  or 
maybe  tens,  according  to  the  lustiness  of  the  combatants. 
The  harder  the  struggle  a  man  can  make  the  larger  the 
group  that  will  be  attracted  to  subdue  him.  No  more  rush 
fright  now.  No  more  thought  of  broken  limbs  or  cracked 
skulls. 

Little  Robbins  lies  squirming  under  a  heap  of  two 
struggling  sophomores  and  three  ditto  freshmen.  They  are 


44  For  the   Blue  and   Gold 


boring  a  hole  into  the  ground  with  him.  He  catches  wildly 
at  a  pair  of  kicking  sophomore  legs. 

"Hi,  there,  ninety  odd  rope,  this  way,"  cries  out  his 
smothered  voice  from  underneath  the  heap.  A  ready 
junior  rushes  over  and  squeezes  the  desired  article  down 
between  Robbins'  teeth. 

"I've  got  him,  fellows,  quick,  his  arms,"  he  presently 
cries,  and  the  sophomore  is  pulled  off  of  him,  laid  on  his 
stomach,  and  his  arms  tied  behind  his  back. 

' '  Hammer-lock  him  !  hammer-lock  him  ! 

"  Ouch  !  oh,  go  easy  ;  they 're  breaking  !  " 

Then  he  is  carted  off  to  the  back-stop,  where  a  small 
pile  of  tied-up  sophomores  lies,  thrown  down  like  logs  of 
wood,  guarded  by  a  few  freshmen,  to  prevent  untying  or 
rescue.  But  Robbins'  triumph  is  short-lived.  He  is 
pounced  upon  by  two  sophomores. 

"  Hi,  Charlie,  give  us  a  hand  with  this  kid  freshie." 

Robbins  cries  out  appealingly,  "Oh!  Ninety  odd, 
this  w<ty  —  help."  Rawson  detaches  himself  from  a  strug- 
gling group  near  by  and  grabs  for  Robbins'  opponents. 

"  Here  we  are,  little  man,"  he  pants.  Two  others 
join  them.  Robbins  scrambles  out.  In  a  few  moments 
two  sophomores  are  tied  up.  James  turns  them  over. 

"  Hello,  Boyce,"  he  cries,  cheerily,  "lots  of  fun,  hey?  " 

Boyce  grins,  muttering  to  himself,  "Knew  I'd  run  up 
against  that  guy.  But  it  isn't  over  yet.  We'll  see  what." 

Robbins  jumps  up,  running  here  and  there  for  his  two 
companions,  from  whom  he  had  agreed  not  to  separate. 
But,  like  many  others,  their  agreement  had  not  held  good. 
After  the  first  clash  they  had  been  torn  asunder.  It  is  now 
every  man  for  himself.  Freshmen,  failing  to  give  their 


T'he    Rush  45 


signal,  tie  one  another  up,  thus  mitigating  the  effect  of 
their  superior  numbers.  The  sophomores  make  no  such 
mistake,  as  they  know  their  classmates  too  well.  More- 
over, they  more  than  once  take  advantage  of  this  freshman 
blunder,  grabbing  up  the  tied-up  man  before  the  mistake  is 
discovered.  And  so  the  two  piles  of  prostrate  rushers  grow, 
but  the  pile  that  the  sophomores  are  guarding  grows  the 
quicker.  Some  in  each  pile  untie  themselves  or  get  untied 
and  make  their  escape.  Many  a  forbidden  knife  flashes  in 
the  moonlight  over  hempen  bonds. 

There  is  still  plenty  of  fight  left  on  both  sides.  The 
sophomore  ranks  contain  several  lusty  football  players,  and 
each  of  these  is  responsible  for  a  world  of  trouble.  In  the 
middle  of  the  field  is  a  struggling  heap  resembling  a 
Thanksgiving  day  scrimmage.  Way  down  beneath  nine 
freshmen  is  Percy,  and  he  is  making  things  so  uncomfort- 
able for  the  whole  nine  that  they  have  not  yet  succeeded  in 
getting  a  rope  on  him.  He  is  so  mingled  with  the  dirt  that 
it  is  hard  to  tell  which  is  which.  At  every  tug  clothes  rip 
and  tear.  Now  a  sleeve  comes  off  a  coat,  now  a  vest  is  torn 
bodily  from  its  wearer. 

"  Holy  Moses  !  "  A  growl  of  mingled  rage  and  pain 
as  Percy's  legs,  striking  out  like  pistons,  catch  a  freshman 
in  the  short  ribs. 

' '  Ouch  !     Come  off  my  leg.' ' 

"  Excuse  me,"  from  a  too  polite  freshman. 

"Oh!  go  chase  yourself,  blank  you."  Percy  keeps 
them  so  churned  up,  wriggling,  lashing,  humping,  that 
they  tumble  over  one  another.  But  presently  things  take  a 
turn.  He  feels  a  vise-like  grip  close  over  his  ankles.  He 
kicks  out,  but  in  vain. 


46          For  the   Blue  and   Gold 


"  Quick,  Cub,  the  rope.  Here's  Percy."  It  is  James 
and  George,  who  have  been  looking  for  Percy  all  night, 
determined  to  get  him  out  of  the  way. 

"  Oh,  you  devils,"  groans  the  captive  as  the  rope 
bites  into  him.  The  other  freshmen  have  tumbled  off  to 
new  fields,  leaving  James  and  George  in  charge.  The 
latter  catches  hold  of  Percy's  flying  arms  and  comes  tum- 
bling down  full  length  on  Percy's  chest  with  the  backward 
pull.  But  he  holds  on.  Now  he  has  the  other.  They 
puff  and  grunt  into  each  other's  faces. 

"  Over  he  goes."  Percy's  hands  are  in  back  of  him, 
lashed  twice  around  —  and  not  so  loosely,  either. 

4 'You  can  take  a  rest  now."  They  mock  him. 
Percy  holds  his  tongue.  As  they  lift  him  from  the  ground 
his  clothes  hang  off  in  shreds  like  those  of  the  victim  of  a 
powder  explosion.  He  is  unceremoniously  dumped  down 
into  the  heap  of  captive  sophomores. 

"Hello,  Perce,  how's  tricks?  Who  tied  you  up?" 
It  is  Charlie  Boyce's  voice. 

"Rawson  and  Cub  Thornton,  hang  them.  Where's 
our  combination  gone  now  ?  ' ' 

"Up  the  flume  if  we  can't  work  out  of<this.  Here, 
wriggle  closer." 

"Quit  that,  there,  you  two,"  and  a  freshman  guard 
prods  Percy  away  with  his  foot. 

But  now  the  freshman  numbers  have  dwindled  fast. 
Those  left  realize  that  their  cause  is  lost  by  the  weak- 
ness of  the  responses  to  cries  for  assistance.  But  they  fight 
doggedly  on.  The  rush  is  not  won  until  every  man  is  tied 
up.  George  and  James  are  about  the  only  ones  of  the  very 
strong  men  left,  and  they  are  fighting  on  the  defensive* 


"The   Rush  47 


Twice  James  has  been  nearly  done  for,  but  each  time  his 
long  limbs  have  made  things  so  hot  for  his  opponents  that 
they  have  been  unable  to  fasten  the  ropes.  George,  too, 
is  underneath  six  sophomores  having  a  hard  time  of  it. 
But  shortly  it  is  all  up  with  poor  George,  and  he  joins  the 
heap  of  his  tied-up  fellows  over  at  the  back-stop,  leaving 
several  black  eyes  and  bruised  sides  in  his  wake. 

The  pack  about  James  grows  one  by  one,  as  the  fierce- 
ness of  the  scrimmage  attracts  the  sophomores.  Here  is 
the  freshman  leader,  and  he  is  putting  up  the  fight  of  the 
night.  James  is  on  his  feet  now,  sparring  away  at  eight  of 
them,  who  have  surrounded  him  like  a  pack  of  wolves.  He 
lashes  out  with  his  feet  and  fists,  regardless  of  consequences. 
His  fighting  blood  is  up  to  the  boiling  point.  The  junior 
spoke  the  truth  :  any  sort  of  rough  house  goes  in  the  rush. 
A  sophomore  makes  a  jump  to  bear  him  down  from  the 
rear,  but  James,  with  a  back-hand  lash,  fetches  him  a  stroke 
on  the  ear  that  tumbles  him  over.  This  gives  pause  to 
several  like-minded.  But  there  are  a  couple  closing  in. 
James  fights  back  savagely.  More  than  one  shin  feels  his 
boot.  Now  an  intrepid  soph  makes  a  dive  and  catches  him 
about  the  waist.  Down  they  go,  bringing  others  with  them. 
In  the  fall  James  has  wriggled  around  and  lands  on  top. 
But  the  others  are  on  him  fearlessly.  Arms  and  legs 
mingle  in  a  seemingly  inextricable  tangle.  Things  are 
going  wrong  with  the  freshman  leader. 

But  what  is  that  shout  from  the  back-stop  ?  Neither 
the  sophomores  nor  James  beneath  them  hear  it,  but  it  is 
one  of  sophomore  triumph.  They  have  disposed  of  so 
many  freshmen  that  a  force  can  now  be  spared  to  rescue 
tied-up  sophomores.  A  rush  is  made  for  the  freshman 


48  For  the   Blue  and   Gold 


guards.  Knives  —  forbidden  weapons  -—  flash,  and  ropes  are 
cut  (incidentally  clothes  and  some  flesh) .  With  a  yell  of  triumph 
the  released  ones  spring  up.  Two  figures  arise  as  one  and 
make  off  together.  They  espy  the  largest  group  of  strugglers. 

' '  That' s  Jim,  I  bet,  Charlie, ' '  cries  Percy.  In  a  moment 
they  have  thrown  themselves  on  the  heap,  making  thirteen 
sophomores — bad  luck  for  James.  In  his  eagerness  to  get 
at  James,  Percy  actually  plucks  his  own  classmates  off. 
Now  he  is  down  to  business.  He  grabs  for  a  swinging  arm 
as  it  lashes  by  him  and  finds  James'  hot  breath  blowing  in 
his  face,  but  he  holds  on.  "Steady,  Jim,"  he  pants,  and 
with  a  grunt  the  exertions  increase.  James  is  still  on  his 
back.  They  want  him  on  his  stomach,  but  he  won't  turn. 
Suddenly  Percy  sees  his  chance,  and,  with  a  terrific  jerk 
pulls  James'  shoulder  toward  him  from  the  ground.  It 
lifts,  only  for  a  second,  but  enough  for  several  arms  to  get  a 
leverage,  and  with  a  mighty  heave  James  goes  slowly  over, 
his  face  boring  into  the  ground.  There  is  plenty  of  fight  in 
him  yet,  and  he  almost  succeeds  in  turning  around  again. 
But  a  thousand  pounds  of  sophomore  are  sprawling  over 
him  and  his  mouth  bores  into  the  dust  until  he  can  scarcely 
breathe.  His  feet  are  still  in  commission,  though,  the 
heavy  brogans  doing  much  damage,  until  somebody  man- 
ages to  pull  them  off. 

' '  Ninety  even  rope,  this  way,  ninety  even  rope,  quick 
there,"  come  the  cries,  and  several  nooses  encircle  the 
ankles  separately.  With  this  leverage  they  manage  to  get 
James'  legs  together.  Meanwhile  Percy  is  hanging  on  to 
that  one  arm  for  dear  life.  He  has  it  drawn  back  until  the 
hand  rests  on  the  small  of  the  back.  The  other  hand 
James  has  managed  to  keep  underneath  him. 


The    Rush  49 


"Give  us  a  rope  on  this  arm  here,"  pants  Percy. 
This  done,  they  hold  on  while  Percy  goes  fishing  for  the 
other.  His  most  active  members  imprisoned,  James  can  not 
do  much  to  prevent  their  turning  him  half  over,  while  a 
sophomore  sits  on  his  head.  Percy  makes  a  grab  for  the 
arm  and  catches  hold.  A  sharp  wrench  and  he  stumbles 
back  with  an  already  loosened  coat  sleeve  in  his  hands. 
But  another  trial,  and  they  have  it,  and  James'  wrists  are 
bound  tightly  behind  his  back. 

"Hammer-lock  him!  Hammer-lock  him!"  cries  a 
a  junior.  That  finishes  him.  They  turn  him  over  on  his 
face,  and  he  spits  out  the  dirt  that  had  been  forced  between 
his  teeth.  He  glares  darkly  at  his  captors,  for  his  feelings 
have  not  been  spared  and  his  ire  is  aroused.  They  stand 
and  bend  around  him,  exchanging  pleasantries  with  one 
another  on  his  appearance,  and  on  his  class.  James  tugs 
fiercely,  and  his  looks  grow  darker  still.  But  Percy  bends 
over  him,  and  with  the  detached  coat  sleeve  wipes  the  dirt 
out  of  his  eyes  and  mouth.  Then  he  places  his  fingers  to 
his  nose,  wriggles  them  tauntingly,  at  the  same  time  waving 
the  coat  sleeve.  At  this  pantomime,  and  the  brotherly  act 
that  has  accompanied  it,  James  relaxes  and  smiles. 

"Brace  up,  Jim — the  fortunes  of  war.  You'll  be  a 
sophomore  yourself  some  day." 

They  lift  James  to  his  feet.  He  presents  a  comical 
sight.  His  face  is  creased  with  dirt  and  in  places  red  with 
scratches.  The  eyes  shine  out  like  a  negro's  from  the  dark 
surroundings.  Every  button  has  been  torn  from  his  cut- 
away coat  and  it  flaps  open,  disclosing  nothing  but  an 
undershirt  beneath.  One  tail  is  likewise  hanging  by  a  mere 
thread.  An  overall  leg  is  ripped  up  the  side.  Percy  takes 


50          For  the  Blue  and  Gold 


a  length  of  rope  and  passes  it  around  James'  waist  to  close 
his  coat. 

"You'll  be  arrested  for  indecent  exposure,  Jim." 

They  all  grin.  But  enough  time  has  been  wasted. 
James  is  taken  up  and  dumped  down  with  the  others  of  his 
classmates. 

He  has  lasted  about  as  long  as  any,  for  now  the  sopho- 
mores, yelling  and  whooping  with  joy,  occupy  the  field  and 
are  rounding  up  the  last  few  uncaught  freshmen.  Soon 
they  are  all  tied  up  and  nearly  a  hundred  logs  lie  dumped 
down  by  the  back-stop.  Then  the  sophomore  glee  breaks 
its  bonds,  and  joining  hands  they  cavort  around  their  supine 
captives,  yelling  their  class  yell  and  singing  "The  Jolly 
Sophomore." 

But  soon  the  upper  classmen  tire  of  this  and  the  fresh- 
men are  cut  loose,  after  a  rush  that  has  lasted  an  hour  and  a 
half.  The  satiated  crowd  of  townspeople  disperses,  fresh- 
man co-eds  slink  away,  their  hearts  heavy  that  they  have 
had  to  stand  idly  by  and  see  their  class  go  down  to  defeat. 
Sophomore  co-eds  move  off  discussing  jubilantly  their 
individual  and  collective  heroes.  Freshmen  stand  up  and 
stretch  themselves,  wipe  the  dirt  out  of  their  faces  and  try 
to  restore  order  among  their  clothes.  Then  they  move  off 
with  a  defiant  class  yell.  They  have  had  their  first  encoun- 
ter, met  their  first  defeat,  but  are  not  subdued.  Experience 
has  been  gained,  and  the  time  is  yet  to  be. 


CHAPTER  V 


College   Days  and  VFays 


The  steps- of  North  Hall  were  and  are  the  center  of  stu- 
dent life.  Here,  in  the  space  between  North  Hall  and 
the  Library,  most  of  the  outward  college  activity  is  on 
view  —  the  periodical  passing  and  repassing  of  columns  of 
students,  as  recitation  hours  come  and  go,  the  Monday  and 
Wednesday  drills  (for  the  benefit  of  seniors,  co-eds  and 
townspeople),  and  last,  but  not  least,  the  crowd  of  bums  and 
others  who  constantly  cover  the  steps  from  half-past  eight 
until  late  in  the  afternoon.  Here,  with  his  trusty  pouch  of 
"Bull  Durham"  and  a  copy  of  the  Daily  Californian, 
many  a  useful  citizen  of  the  future  has  dreamed  away  a  large 
part  of  his  four  years,  suffused  in  the  genial  glow  of  western 
sun  and  good  fellowship.  From  here  has  every  co-ed,  in 
her  day,  been  sized  up  as  she  passed  with  self-conscious  steps 
to  or  from  the  c '  Co-op  ' '  or  the  Library.  From  here  have 
the  salient  characteristics  of  "prex"  and  "prof"  been 
brought  up  and  discussed  as  his  appearance  has  furnished  the 
occasion  for  each.  From  here  has  many  a  languid  ear  heard 
first  and  second  bells  call  to  recitation,  call  in  vain  while 
the  owner  steels  his  soul  for  a  "cut."  Toward  here,  finally, 
the  student  gravitates  if  he  have  a  few  minutes  to  spare  as 
he  comes  up  from  his  locker,  or  from  a  look  at  the  bulletin- 
board  and  "cinch-notice"  rack.  North  Hall  steps,  in 
short,  are  the  forum  of  the  university. 


52          For  the   Blue  and   Gold 


"  Say,  Charlie,  give  us  a  smoke.1' 

' '  Haven't  got  one  —  sworn  off. " 

"Ho,  ho!  Trying  to  work  that  jolly  again?  Quit 
fooling  now,  and  give  us  a  smoke." 

Thus  objurgated,  Boyce  pulls  out  a  tobacco-bag  and 
throws  it  over  to  the  worst  tobacco  sponger  in  college. 

' '  Rats  ! ' '  and  the  empty  bag  is  flung  back  at  his  head 
with  an  exclamation  of  disgust 

Listen  to  the  football  cognoscenti:  "If  Thompson 
comes  back  for  center,  our  center  trio  will  be  simply  invinci- 
ble. Then  we  move  Jewett  to  left  tackle,  and  with  Burt 
holding  down  the  end,  they  won't  monkey  with  that  side  of 
the  line.  We'll  put  little  Hoskins  in  at  quarter,  and  with 
Pete  to  do  the  kicking  —  'how  can  they  beat  us,  beat 
us  ? '  "  —  he  breaks  off,  humming. 

"You're  off;  Wilber  puts  it  all  over  Hoskins  at 
quarter.  Hosk  loses  his  head  in  a  pinch  and  fumbles. 
Quarter  has  to  keep  cool,  above  all.  There  was  '  Snowy ' 
Martel  year  before  last.  He  was  on  the  varsity  up  to  the 
first  game  with  the  Olympics.  He  did  great  in  practice, 
but  first  time  he  got  up  against  the  real  thing  —  well,  he 
went  all  to  pieces,  fumbled  and  all.  It'll  be  the  same  with 
Hosk.  I  look  to  see  Wilber  beat  him  out. ' ' 

'  *  If  we  only  had  a  quarter  who  could  punt  like 
Murray — they  simply  wouldn't  come  within  a  mile  of 
scoring." 

"Sourball!  What's  the  matter  with  Pete  Carter?" 
"  He's  all  right,  you  bet,  every  time  ! "  (Chorus.) 

"Well,  they  ain't  going  to  come  within  a  mile  of 
scoring,  anyway.  I'll  put  that  score  at  thirty -six  to  noth- 
ing. I  don't  see  how  we  can  do  less,  barring  the  worst 


Bumming  on   North  Hall  steps 


College   Days  and  Jf^ays  53 


accidents.  That's  six  touch-downs,  with  a  goal  for  every 
one — and  did  you  ever  see  the  time  when  Pete  didn't  kick 
the  goal  —  barring  wet  weather,  of  course  ?  We  ought  to 
make  two  of  those  in  the  first  half  while  they've  got  their 
steam  in  them  yet,  but,  when  we  get  them  going  in  the 
second " 

"Come  off!  You've  got  the  thing  wrong  end  on. 
Say  that  we  do  make  six  touch-downs,  four  of  them  will  be 
in  the  first  half.  And  for  why  ?  We'll  get  them  going 
from  the  first  kick-off  so  quick  that  they  won't  know  what's 
struck  them.  Why,  man,  there'll  be  a  touch-down  within 
the  first  four  minutes  of  play.  But  in  the  next  half  they'll 
get  their  second  wind  and  a  whole  lot  of  advice  on  the 
side  from  the  coach.  Our  boys  will  be  tired  out.  It's 
harder  work  when  you  have  the  ball  all  the  time,  and  then 
those  guys  always  seem  to  take  a  brace  in  the  second 
half.  Shouldn't  be  surprised  if  the  trainer  dopes  them 
between  the  halves. ' ' 

"Oh,  say!  (breathlessly,  from  a  new  arrival)  there's 
a  cinch  notice  for  Dick  Hawley  ! ' ' 

"Holy  smoke!  You  don't  say  so  !"  (Utmost  con- 
sternation.) "  Hey,  Tommy,  grab  that  quick  and  we'll 
open  it  by  mistake.  Say,  there's  hard  luck  for  you.  It 
was  a  sad  day  for  Dick  when  he  ran  up  against  analytical 
mechanics. ' ' 

An  adjournment  is  had  to  inspect  the  latest  batch  of 
cinch  notices.  Seats  on  North  Hall  steps  do  not  remain 
empty  long.  These  are  rapidly  taken. 

"I  be  blamed.  It's  10:20  and  there  goes  the  bell 
for  English  2.  I  haven't  looked  at  the  darn  stuff  yet. 
He  was  down  to  *E'  on  the  roll  last  time,  and  he'll 


54          For  the    Blue  and   Gold 


strike  me,  sure.  Say,  but  that  prof  is  easy.  Some  of 
them  mix  the  cards  up  so  that  you  never  know  when  they'll 
strike  you,  but  he  has  them  all  alphabeted,  and  you  can 
tell  to  a  dot  when  your  turn  will  come  to  recite.  Huh ! 
(stretching)  I  hate  to  cut  my  best  friends,  but  I'll  have  to 
do  it  this  time.  Got  a  Calif ornian,  Jimmy  ? ' ' 

1  'How  many  cuts  have  you  got  in  that  English,  Finley?" 

"Only  four  unexcused.  I  hate  to  work  the  poor  man 
too  hard.  Now,  there's  the  guy  in  Schiller.  Dutch  said 
he  wouldn't  let  us  take  the  final  ex  if  we  had  more  than 
five  unexcused  cuts.  Somebody  has  ridden  my  Schiller 
horse  off  from  the  library,  where  I  had  him  stalled  behind 
a  bookcase,  and  I  don't  see  how  I  can  show  up  to  Dutch 
until  I  get  him  back.  The  only  way  I  can  get  that  stuff  is 
to  horse  it  out. " 

"Finley  thinks  that  he's  horribly  fly  with  that  pony 
work  of  his,  but  it's  coarse.  Dutch  was  dead  on  to  him  last 
time.  Fin  translated  *  Mortbiegirig  '  as  '  death-dealing ' ,  and 
Dutch  asked  him  to  repeat  it  to  make  sure.  '  Yes, '  he  said, 
'  that  is  the  way  it  stands  in  the  Bohn  translation,  but  it  is 
evidently  a  misprint.  It  should  be  *  *  desirous ' '  instead  of 
' '  dealing. ' '  You  don't  want  to  follow  those  free  versions  too 
closely,  Mr.  Finley.'  Ha  !  That  was  one  on  you,  Fin. 
Say,  I  bet  you're  up  against  a  five  minus  in  German  2,  all 
right,  all  right." 

Apropos  of  nothing  :  "  Talk  about  your  snaps.  Well, 
you  just  ought  to  travel  over  to  Cow  College.  That's 
where  you'll  find  the  real  article — all  wool  and  a  yard 
wide.  Agriculture  28 A  is  IT — lecture  course,  three  hours 
throughout  the  year.  He  told  us  not  to  mind  about  taking 
notes.  That  prof  is  the  easiest  yet.  Know  how  he  calls  the 


College  Days  and  W^ays          55 


roll  ?  Has  a  little  thing  like  a  ballot-box,  with  a  lot  of  small 
cards.  When  you  come  in,  you  go  up,  write  your  name  on 
a  card  and  drop  it  in  the  box.  A  fellow  can  do  that  at  8:20 
as  well  as  8:30,  and  he  needn't  stay  for  the  rest.  Oh  !  it's 
a  pipe,  all  right.  Why,  if  Cow  College  should  collapse, 
every  bum  in  college  would  be  going  around  on  crutches. ' ' 

"I'm  glad  you  mentioned  that.  I'll  put  it  down  for 
my  free  electives. ' ' 

Down  in  the  Occident  office  they  sing  a  different  tune. 
Here  gather  the  real  cognoscenti.  Here  one  may  (if 
one  is  privileged)  listen  to  the  discourse  of  the  ' '  Heavenly 
Triplets,"  of  "  Diogenes, "  the  college  misanthrope,  and  of 
other  notables  of  the  Occident  "push."  Here  one  will  find 
men  who  mold  college  opinion  (or  think  they  do)  in  its 
weekly  paper,  and  write  stories  and  verses  on  love  to  fill  up 
its  columns,  yet  get  cinched  in  English. 

Listen  now  to  the  voice  of  wisdom  —  Davis,  to  wit : 

"  The  university  is  life  epitomized.  If  a  man  does  his 
work  well  here,  you  can  bank  upon  it  that  he  will  do  the 
same  when  he  leaves  college.  The  qualities  that  he  has  to 
have  to  succeed  out  in  the  world  he  needs  in  order  to  suc- 
ceed at  college.  What  is  'digging'  but  application,  and 
who  can  succeed  any  place  without  it  ?  And  who  can  fail  to 
succeed  who  perseveres  in  it  ?  What  is  it  that  causes  a  fel- 
low to  dig  but  continued  exercise  of  strong  will  power? 
And  who  are  your  great  men  but  those  who  know  how  to 
dig?  Look  at  Gladstone,  look  at  Spencer,  look  at  Dar- 
win." (A  voice:  "Look  at  Davis.")  "If  a  fellow  cuts 
his  recitations  habitually,  bums  on  North  Hall  steps,  gets 
somebody  to  do  his  math  —  don't  you  suppose  that  the  hab- 
its of  four  years'  duration,  formed  in  the  most  plastic  time  of 


56  For   the   Blue   and   Gold 


his  life,  will  permanently  weaken  his  character,  and  that 
afterwards  he  will  cut  and  shirk  his  business  as  well  ?  All 
I've  got  to  say  is,  that  college  is  life  epitomized,  and  as  you 
do  here  you'll  do  there.  You  may  make  fun  of  the  student 
with  a  purpose  —  but  I  am  one  and  not  ashamed  to  say 
it  —  I  came  here  to  work." 

11  Good  boy,  Davis  !" 

"  Good  enough,  parson  !  " 

"  Say,  Davis,  what  part  of  you  was  it  that  you  came 
here  to  work  —  your  jaw  ? ' ' 

Davis  looks  sour.  He  tries  hard  to  be  taken  seriously, 
but  does  not  often  succeed. 

Warren  enters,  depositing  his  grip  heavily  on  the  counter. 

' '  Aha  !  Here's  Warren.  What  did  you  do  in  philoso- 
phy 23  this  morning  ?  ' ' 

'  *  It  took  me  nearly  the  whole  hour  to  convince  that 
fellow  that  man  has  no  '  natural  rights.'  Why,  he  is  simply 
rank.  He's  a  hundred  years  behind  the  times — back  with 
the  idealists  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence  and  their 
echoes  of  the  French  Revolution.  I  stand  with  the  modern 
school,  like  Bosanquet.  I  quoted  to  maintain  my  position, 
but  he  either  wouldn't  or  couldn't  see  it.  I  guess  it's  the 
latter.  When  a  man  comes  up  to  teach  in  a  university  he 
ought  to  know  something ;  but,  honestly,  I  sometimes  sit 
there  and  pity  him;  he's  so  dense." 

'  *  So  you  took  charge  of  the  class,  as  usual,  this  morning  ? ' ' 

' '  It  needs  somebody  that  knows  something  when  the 
prof  doesn't  know  as  much  as  the  students." 

"Never  mind,  Diogenes.  In  another  year  you'll  be 
able  to  take  a  chair  here  yourself.  That'll  relieve  the  situa- 
tion somewhat. " 


College   Days  and  Ways          57 


But  Warren  turns  on  his  heel  with  an  angry  grunt. 
The  name  Diogenes  is  always  the  sign  for  him  to  awaken  to 
the  fact  that  he  is  being  made  game  of,  and  he  withdraws 
into  his  shell  like  a  turtle. 

Enter  Windom,  chairman  of  the  Committee  on  the 
Intercollegiate  Debate. 

' '  Ah,  there,  Arthur  !  How  goes  it  with  the  question 
for  the  intercollegiate  ?  " 

"I  think  we'll  hand  them  a  universal  affirmative  to 
maintain,  all  right, ' '  rubbing  his  hands  and  smiling. 

"But  don't  you  think  they've  got  too  many  relative 
clauses  in  it?" 

"They  had,  but  we've  cut  ail  of  them  out  but  one. 
That's  a  peach,  though.  Oh,  you  bet  Stanford  will  wish 
she'd  stuck  to  straight  questions  before  she  gets  through 
with  this  debate." 

From  this  they  plunge  into  a  discussion  of  the  question 
from  all  points  of  view,  threshing  it  out  with  flails  of  logic. 
Warren  forgets  his  wounded  dignity,  thaws  out,  and  is  soon 
in  the  thick  of  the  discussion. 

The  business  manager  is  trying  to  study  his  Greek. 
"Say,  come  off!  A  fellow  can't  hear  himself  think  with 
all  you  a  chewing  the  rag.  This  isn't  a  session  of 
English  7."  Then,  with  disgust,  as  he  is  unheeded: 
"Who'll  dig  this  ^Eschylus  with  me?  Now,  don't  all 
speak  at  once.  All  right,  Davis.  Let's  come  over  to  the 
Calif ornian  office.  They're  all  out  doing  politics." 

Mrs.  Saunders  gave  James  every  other  Sunday  after- 
noon to  himself,  as  most  of  her  boarders  were  away  from 
Saturday  to  Monday. 


58  For  the  Blue  and  Gold 


' '  Say,  Jim,  come  over  and  chew  with  us  tonight.  Our 
carver  is  sourballed  on  his  job,"  invites  Percy. 

" Thanks.     I'll  be  there." 

The  "Oski-Wow"  Eating  Club  occupied  the  lower 
floor  of  a  rickety  old  house  at  the  end  of  Telegraph  Avenue. 
The  members  were  all  freshmen  except  Percy.  The  mem- 
bership had  been  undergoing  a  process  of  evolution  since 
the  first  week  of  the  club,  and  those  now  included  were  the 
"fittest,"  who  had  survived.  "Joshing"  and  horse  play 
(  * '  rough  house  " ) ,  characterized  the  sessions  sometimes, 
and  some  there  had  been  with  skins  too  thin,  or  lacking  a 
sense  of  humor.  These,  finding  themselves  in  a  strange 
garret,  had  dropped  out.  Others,  attracted  by  these  very 
things,  had  taken  their  places,  several  of  these  members  of 
the  ' 'mining  push."  It  was  now  a  thoroughly  harmonious 
company,  able  to  stand  any  amount  of  roughness,  either 
verbal  or  physical,  without  display  of  ill  temper. 

As  you  entered  the  dining-room  the  legend  greeted 
your  eye : 

"Oski-Wow  Menagerie.  Animals  fed  at  7:30  A.  M., 
12:30  and  6  P.  M." 

The  cook  and  general  factotum  was  a  Jap.  His  meals, 
if  not  epicurean,  were  large  and  filling.  The  table  service 
was  —  well,  a  little  the  worse  for  wear  and  lack  of  hot  water. 
The  table  was  covered  with  an  oilcloth  and  each  member 
held  his  napkin  for  a  week,  identifying  it  by  a  distinct  knot. 
But  then,  you  can't  expect  damask  for  twelve  per  month. 

Rawson  was  greeted  cordially,  especially  by  the  carver, 
who  held  his  job  as  the  result  of  a  drawing  of  lots. 

1 '  Hello,  Jim  !     Here' s  my  place. ' ' 

Rawson  was  their  ideal  carver.     He  slashed  things  up 


College   Days  and  U^ays          59 


so  quickly  that  the  most  ravenous  were  appeased,  and  his 
reach  was  so  long  that  he  dropped  the  plates  right  under 
their  owners'  noses.  He  took  his  seat  and  his  long  arms 
were  soon  working  flail-like.  For  a  while  knives  and  forks 
plied  and  jaws  worked  in  silence.  Then,  the  first  pangs 
sated,  tongues  began  to  loosen  up. 

"Say,  Jim,  how  about  that  little  co-ed  that  boards  over 
your  way?  I  hear  you're  teaching  her  math  in  the  .parlor 
'when  the  lights  are  low.'  " 

"Say,  fellows,  (from  George)  I  bet  you'll  soon  see 
Jim  taking  a  four-foot-ten  co-ed  dig  out  to  church  Sundays 
—  the  long  and  the  short  of  it." 

"  She'd  be  a  better  match  for  Cub  there  than  for  me. 
I  guess  he's  almost  her  size." 

1 '  He  is  —  crosswise. ' ' 

"But,  Jim,  is  it  possible  that  you'd  so  violate  student 
ethics  as  to  let  a  co-ed  copy  your  math  ?  ' ' 

' '  She's  not  copying  mine  —  I'm  getting  hers.  She's  a 
senior  and  the  slickest  one  at  math  I've  struck. " 

'  *  Ah,  go  'long.  You're  trying  to  spring  one  of  those 
*  rare  bird '  joshes  on  us.  A  co-ed  good  in  math ! 
Whatcher  givin'  us  ?  Why,  who  ever  saw  one  yet  who  could 
get  more  than  a  third  section  in  math  ?  They're  not  built 
fork." 

"Well,  she  gets  firsts.  Hawley  told  me  so.  He 
thinks  she'll  get  the  medal." 

"  Ho,  ho  !  That's  a  good  one.  Why,  who  ever  heard 
of  her?  What's  her  name,  Gray?  Nobody  mentions  her. 
Warren  is  the  only  one  in  it  for  that  medal.  At  the  end  of 
his  sophomore  year  he  had  taken  seventy-five  hours,  and  I 
hear  that  he  had  that  many  firsts.  He  carries  all  his 


60          For   the   Blue  and   Gold 


registration  cards  around  with  him  and  counts  them  up  in 
spare  moments  to  make  sure  they're  all  there." 

''Don't  you  believe  all  you  hear.  I  think  his  game  is 
to  frighten  off  competitors.  He's  got  a  great  head,  all  right, 
but  he  antagonizes  too  many  profs  with  his  know-it-all-I'll- 
expose-your-fallacies-in-a-minute-style.  I  remember  him 
from  high  school.  He's  a  holy  terror  for  kicking. 

1 '  Say,  Paul,  how  does  he  do  it  ?" 

Paul  swells  his  chest  and  speaks  through  his  nose  : 
"Why,  I  tried  to  explain  the  elements  of  the  subject 
to  him,  but  he  couldn't  grasp  them.  Why,  man,  he's  the 
rottenest  apology  for  a  prof  I  ever  struck.  He  ought  to  go 
back  and  take  formal  logic. " 

"Good  boy,  Paul.  That's  Warren  on  almost  any- 
body." 

The  conversation  having  now  veered  off  so  far  from 
the  subject  of  Miss  Gray,  James  breathes  easier. 

"  But  you  don't  want  to  take  it  for  granted  that  because 
Diogenes  may  be  personally  objectionable  to  the  profs  they 
will  mark  him  lower  than  he  deserves." 

' '  Profs  are  only  human ;  and  we  know  that  there  is 
favoritism  sometimes.  So  there  can  just  as  well  be  the 
reverse." 

' '  Favoritism  be  hanged  !  When  a  fellow  gets  a  third 
section  it's  usually  his  infernal  conceit  that  bawls  out  that 
the  prof's  down  on  him." 

"Well,  I  heard  from  good  authority  that  Whiskers 
said  the  other  day  that  his  present  class  in  freshman  Dutch 
is  the  rottenest  yet  and  that  I'm  the  rottenest  in  it.  Isn't 
that  snap  judgment  ?  " 

"  Maybe  you  are.'1 


College   Days  and  JJ^ays          61 


"Good  for  Whiskers." 
1 '  Say,  who  told  you  ? ' ' 

' '  Well,  Miss  Flint.     She  got  it  from  her  aunt,  who  has 
a  lady  friend  that  visits  at  the  German  Club." 
James  chants  : 

'"This  I  have  read  in  a  book,  he  said,  and  that  was 

told  to  me, 

And  this  I  have  thought  that  another  man  thought 
of  a  Prince  in  Muscovy.'  " 

"  Yes,  and  don't  you  notice  how  many  times  Whiskers 
calls  on  that  Miss  Southey  to  recite  ?  She's  going  with  a 
friend  of  his,  and  I  bet  she's  booked  for  a  one,  sure." 

"  I  don't  think  there's  much  in  that,  Tommy,"  speaks 
up  James.  "So  far  as  I've  observed,  the  profs  are  fair- 
minded  and  conscientious.  Of  course,  they  may  make  mis- 
takes, because,  as  Cub  says,  they're  only  human." 

' '  Oh,  come  off  with  the  profs.  Give  them  a  rest. 
Wait  until  the  end  of  the  term  and  we'll  start  a  sourball 
club  out  of  all  who  have  enough  third  sections.  The  way 
you  fellows  talk  it  would  be  hard  to  tell  that  only  four 
months  ago  you  were  all  puling  preps  who  didn't  own  your 
own  souls.' ' 

"You  bet,  this  is  a  big  change  from  the  old  Lowell 
High,  where  we   were  merely  kids   and  were  treated   a 
kids  —  regular  hours  for  work,  regular  hours  for  recess  an 
we  all  had  to  travel  together  and  do  the  same  thing.     Then 
they  dump  a  fellow  down  in  this  big  place  and  he  suddenly 
finds  himself  master  of  his  own  destiny.     He  can  cut  when- 
ever he  wants  to  and  he  can  study  or  bum  as  he  likes. 
It's  an  awful  quick  transition." 

"But  how  quick  we  catch  on.     Why,  the  first  time  at 


62          For   the   Blue  and   Gold 


recitation  that  I  heard  a  fellow  answer  '  Not  prepared '  when 
he  was  called  on  to  recite,  I  opened  my  eyes  for  develop- 
ments. But  the  prof  just  made  a  mark  on  his  card  and 
passed  on  without  a  word. ' ' 

"That  fellow  don't  want  to  do  it  too  often,  though,  or 
he'll  find  a  little  cinch  notice  for  himself." 

"  That's  the  best  of  it.  At  college  a  fellow  is  supposed 
to  mean  business  and  to  know  what  he  wants  and  what  is 
good  for  him.  The  prof  takes  it  for  granted  that  when  we 
gather  to  meet  him  we  all  mean  business,  and  so  if  we  are 
not  prepared  he  thinks  that  something  unavoidable  has 
prevented  it.  I  guess  when  a  fellow  gets  to  college  he  has 
come  out  into  life  where  nobody  stands  behind  a  man  to 
whisper  what  is  right  or  wrong  and  make  him  toe  the  mark. 
As  Davis  always  says  :  'College  is  life  epitomized.'  If  a 
fellow  is  a  false  alarm,  why,  he  falls  down." 

"Yes;  but  some  of  the  profs  haven't  outgrown  the 
primary  school  idea  yet.  In  French  the  other  day  I  wasn't 
prepared  and  he  said,  raising  his  eyebrows,  '  How  ees  dat, 
Meester  Thompson  ? '  " 

"Well,  you  see,  Paul,"  explained  Percy,  "some  of 
them  think  that  it  takes  freshmen  two  years  to  rub  off  the 
primary  school  down.  We  aren't  supposed  to  become  per- 
meated enough  with  college  ideals  in  our  first  two  years. 
We  are  college  boys.  But  as  juniors  and  seniors  with  plugs, 
we  will  become  college  men  and  be  treated  with  more  con- 
sideration and  respect.  Freshmen  and  sophomores  are 
supposed  to  cheat  at  exes  if  they  get  the  chance,  but  by  the 
time  you  reach  the  third  year  you'll  find  profs  that  will  give 
you  an  ex  and  then  leave  the  room  for  a  smoke,  without 
pledging  you  on  your  honor  not  to  cheat.  There  are  some 


College   Days   and  Ways  63 


under  classmen  that  it's  necessary  to  treat  that  way  and 
more  that  it  isn't,  but  for  safety  they  have  to  treat  the  best 
like  the  worst." 

"Profs  are  all  bluffers.  They've  got  more  little  bluff- 
ing devices  to  keep  a  fellow  up  to  the  mark  than  I  ever 
dreamed  of.  Why  in  Minto  he  always  assigns  ten  pages 
more  for  the  next  recitation  than  he  has  any  idea  of  cover- 
ing. Then  the  papers  that  we  write  and  the  spiels  we 
prepare  and  the  references  that  we  look  up  that  are  never 
called  for.  The  papers,  too,  that  we  hand  in  with  promise 
of  correction  and  return,  '  Oh,  they  never  come  back. ' ' ' 

"But  it  don't  do  you  any  harm  to  look  all  those  things 
up,  does  it  ?  " 

"Can't  say  that  it  does.  But  I'd  do  it  without  the 
bluff." 

"Others  wouldn't  —  and  there  you  have  it  —  the  best 
like  the  worst." 

"Why,"  exclained  Percy,  "talk  of  bluffers;  there's  afel- 
low  by  the  name  of  Finley  in  English  2  that  makes  a  study  of 
the  prof  for  the  purpose  of  knowing  what  not  to  do.  He 
has  bluffology  reduced  to  a  fine  art.  He  knows  to  a  dot 
just  when  he  will  be  called  on  and  cuts.  And  he  seems  to 
have  premonitions  about  exes.  I  met  him  the  other  morn- 
ing: 'Coming  up?'  'No,'  he  said;  'I  think  there'll  be 
an  ex  this  morning  —  what  he  calls  a  written  recitation.' 

"  '  What  makes  you  think  it  ?  ' 

"  'I  don't  know ;  I  just  do.' 

"And  sure  enough  we  caught  a  corker." 

"Well,  I  swan!"  exclaimed  George,  pulling  out  his 
watch.  "Here  it  is  near  eight,  and  I've  got  a  half-past 
eight  to  prepare  yet  for  tomorrow.  Say,  fellows,  haven't 


64  For  the   Blue  and   Qold 


we  behaved  ourselves  tonight  and  talked  big  talk  ?  I  guess 
it's  the  influence  of  Jim.  No  joshing  to  speak  of  and 
nobody's  proposed  to  adjourn  to  the  Widow's  to  beer  up. 
Not  a  fellow  has  shown  the  color  of  his  Bull  Durham.  Now 
straight  business — let's  take  a  census  of  smokers.  Who's 
got  tobacco,  pipe,  or  cigarette  paper  in  his  pocket?  Hands 
up.  Here,  Tommy  Osgood,  don't  perjure  your  soul  —  up 
you  go,  and  you,  Paul  Thompson,  too.  I'm  surprised," 
as  a  package  of  cigarettes,  a  pipe  with  tobacco,  and  a 
bundle  of  cigarette  papers  are  reluctantly  brought  forth. 

"  Lay  them  on  the  table  there,  in  plain  sight.  Thanks ; 
that's  my  favorite  brand,"  and,  grabbing  a  package  of 
Imperiales,  George  runs  from  the  room,  followed  by  the 
indignant  owner.  Uproarious  appreciation  from  the  others. 

"Scat,  now,"  invites  Percy,  "and  give  the  Jap  a 
chance."  And  they  scat. 


CHAPTER  VI 
Who's  Afraid? 


At  the  beginning  of  the  term,  when  James  had  re- 
ported at  the  Gym  for  physical  inspection,  the  instructor, 
sizing  him  up,  had  remarked,  "  You  ought  to  join  the  foot- 
ball squad." 

Now,  toward  the  middle  of  September,  the  very  atmos- 
phere began  to  be  charged  with  football  play  and  talk. 
Garrett,  the  wonder-working  coach,  whose  previous  year's 
instruction  had  brought  California  a  decisive  victory,  had 
arrived  and  been  treated  to  an  effusive  welcome  and  rally. 
Every  afternoon  three  score  youths,  dressed  in  all  degrees 
of  football  uniform,  tumbled  about  the  gridiron,  while 
Garrett  patiently  and  thoroughly  drilled  into  them  the  rudi- 
ments of  the  game — falling  on  the  ball,  tackling,  running 
down  under  kicks,  tackle-boxing,  punting,  passing.  The 
whole  college,  including  co-eds  and  digs,  meanwhile  sitting 
on  the  bleachers  and  yelling  with  ' '  college  spirit ' '  revivified 
by  the  previous  year's  victory. 

Rawson,  with  longing  in  his  heart,  had  stood  watching 
the  beginnings.  His  muscles  were  fairly  tingling  to  be  in 
the  scrimmage.  It  brought  back  to  him  the  days  when  he 
had  played  on  the  scrub  eleven  that  used  to  furnish  practice 
for  the  high  school  team.  "  But  it's  not  for  you,  this  trip, 
my  boy  ;  you've  got  your  grub  to  earn  "  he  acknowledged 
with  a  sigh  and  walked  on. 


66  For  the  Blue  and  Gold 


After  dinner,  a  few  nights  later,  Hawley,  the  captain, 
began  :  * '  Say  Rawson,  did  you  ever  play  football  ? ' ' 

' '  Yes,  a  little  down  home.  I  played  full  on  a  scrub 
that  used  to  practice  with  the  high  school.  I  don't  know 
much  about  it  though." 

"  What's  the  matter  with  coming  out  and  learning  some 
more?  " 

"  Haven't  got  the  time.  Have  to  be  in  to  prepare  for 
you  feeders/' 

"  Don't  let  that  interfere.  Nobody  gets  into  dinner 
before  practice  is  over.  They're  all  down  on  the  grid, 
except  Davis,  and  he's  up  in  the  Library  digging,  with  the 
old  ladies  and  Japs.  Come  along  and  try  it  on  anyhow. 
You  can  drop  out  if  it  won't  work.  The  freshmen  are 
pretty  light  this  year." 

The  following  day  and  the  following,  this  same  con- 
versation was  repeated.  James  still  held  out,  but  every 
afternoon  that  he  leaned  over  the  fence  helped  Hawley 's 
arguments  in  the  evening.  Finally,  on  an  afternoon,  he 
tumbled  out  with  the  rest  of  the  squad,  his  lanky  form  in- 
cased in  a  hybrid  suit  which  did  not  fit  him  enough,  with 
stockings  that  were  not  a  match.  Soon  he  was  falling  on 
the  ball  and  plunging  at  the  dummy  tackling  bag  with  such 
vim  that  Garrett  asked,  ' '  Is  that  long  fellow  a  freshman  ? 
Then  take  him  in  hand  for  a  few  moments.  He  seems 
eager."  For  the  first  few  days  they  let  James  off  a  little 
earlier  than  the  others.  But  soon  he  was  held  for  the 
whole  practice. 

After  an  hour's  tumbling  about,  a  finishing  sprint  on  the 
track,  and  a  shower  and  rub-down  in  the  Gym,  James  would 
feel  like  a  race-horse.  He  was  the  kind  of  athlete  of  whom 


Backs 


Whtfs  Afraid?  67 


they  say,  "He  is  always  in  condition."  He  carried  no 
surplus  flesh,  just  bone  and  sinew,  and  his  wind  never  got 
"thick."  But  his  hardness  was  not  of  the  muscle-bound 
sort,  for  he  was  so  much  on  the  hop,  skip  and  jump  that  he 
always  kept  his  muscles  limber. 

The  season  had  been  started  early,  and,  by  the  first 
week  of  October,  the  three  score  footballists  who  had  signed 
the  roll  at  the  beginning,  had,  by  the  survival  process,  been 
reduced  by  nearly  half.  Some  had  retired  with  injuries, 
some  had  tired  of  the  hard  work,  parental  objection  had 
been  the  cause  of  several  withdrawals,  and  others,  awaken- 
ing to  the  cruel  fact  that  they  were  not  of  the  stuff  from 
which  the  football  hero  is  made,  gave  it  up  for  a  bad  job. 
This  year,  like  others,  had  brought  out  its  quota  of  half- 
fledged  laspirants  who  fall  by  the  roadside  ere  the  season 
gets  under  way. 

The  remaining  players  gradually  coalesced  into  two 
elevens,  one  of  which,  because  the  captain  and  other  grid- 
iron veterans  played  on  it,  was  recognized  as  the  "varsity," 
the  nucleus  from  which  the  final  team  would  be  built.  The 
other  was  the  " second"  or  "scrub"  eleven.  But  there 
were  many  open  places  on  the  varsity.  No  man's  position 
was  a  ''sure  thing."  From  time  to  time  players  on  the 
scrub  would  change  places  with  those  on  the  varsity,  and 
men  would  be  shifted  from  one  position  to  another.  Percy 
was  playing  right  half  on  the  varsity,  for  which  position  he 
had  been  substitute  in  his  freshman  year.  Rawson  was 
scrub  full-back.  He  had  early  developed  a  talent  for  punt- 
ing, for  which  his  long,  limber  legs  were  well  adapted.  But 
the  varsity  full-back,  Carter,  was  a  veteran  of  three  teams 
and  the  best  kicker  in  college,  so  it  did  not  seem  as  if  James 


68          For   the  Blue   and  Gold 


would  get  beyond  the  second  eleven  unless  he  developed 
marked  ability  in  some  other  direction.  For  the  very  fact 
that  he  could  punt  made  Garrett  hold  on  to  Rawson  in 
this  position,  as  he  needed  a  substitute  for  Carter.  But 
so  long  as  he  was  in  the  game  James  did  not  care  so  very 
much  on  which  eleven  he  played.  He  loved  the  game  for 
its  own  sake.  He  took  joy  in  its  fierce  impacts  and  rough 
and  tumble.  Besides  he  was  satisfied  with  the  second 
eleven  because  he  realized  that,  even  should  he  make  the 
varsity,  he  would  not  be  able  to  leave  his  job  to  go  to  the 
training  table,  nor  well  spare  the  time  that  was  later  to 
be  demanded  of  the  varsity  players.  As  it  was,  he  had  to 
rush  in  order  to  get  home  in  time  every  evening.  He  did 
not  usually  notice  a  person's  "looks,"  or  he  would  have 
remarked  the  severe  one  with  which  Mrs.  Saunders  favored 
him  on  an  occasion  when  he  tumbled  in  at  the  last  moment 
with  a  badly  colored  eye  and  a  face  glowing  from  exertion. 

Night  after  night  the  enthusiastic,  unlaureled  heroes  of 
the  scrub  eleven  lined  up  against  the  varsity  and  took  the 
latter' s  fierce  buckings  and  plunges  with  good  grace,  "all 
for  the  sake  of  California."  Well  rewarded  were  they,  if 
the  rooters  would  spare  a  breath  between  yells  and  cheers 
for  the  stars,  to  notice  the  good  work  of  a  member  of  the 
scrub. 

The  varsity  is  being  drilled  in  defensive  play.  The 
scrub  has  the  ball.  Twice  in  succession  James  bucks  the 
center,  only  to  find  an  impregnable  stone  wall  instead  of  the 
opening  he  was  looking  for.  Back  he  drops  for  a  punt,  his 
head  still  singing  from  the  impact.  A  long,  high  drive 
and  they  are  down  under  it.  Percy  is  running  back  for  the 
ball,  having  misjudged  the  kick.  The  ball  drops  into  his 


Who's  Afraid?  69 


arms.  He  fumbles.  The  scrub  end  is  on  him.  Quickly 
the  end  dives  for  the  bounding  pigskin.  He  grabs  it  and  is  up. 

"  A  touch-down  !  A  touch-down  !  "  yell  the  bleach- 
ers. No,  for  Carter  has  made  a  flying  tackle,  and  the  poor 
little  end  lies  on  the  ground,  wondering  in  how  many  pieces 
he  has  been  broken. 

' '  Three  cheers  for  the  second  eleven, ' '  calls  the  yell  leader. 

"  Hip,  hip,  hurrah  !  Hip,  hip,  hurrah  !  The  second 
eleven  !  "  comes  the  roar,  and  following  it : 

" Wilson,  Wilson,  good  boy,  Wilson!"  as  the  little 
end  picks  himself  up,  blushing.  Then,  not  forgetting  James  : 

"What's  the  matter  with  Jim  Rawson  ?  He's  all 
right,  you  bet,  every  time.  Who?  Jim  Rawson." 

Into  this,  the  proud  freshmen  throw  their  utmost  lung 
power.  While  the  second  eleven  is  getting  glory,  Percy 
stands  abashed  before  Garrett,  as  the  coach  explains  to  him 
how  to  hold  himself  loosely  when  he  takes  the  ball. 

Now,  in  sheer  exuberance  of  spirits,  the  rooters  let  off 
the  yells  in  quick  succession.  Sharp,  bark-like,  rings 
out  the  college  yell  — 

Ha!    Ha!    Ha! 
California  ! 
U.  C.  Berkeley, 
Zip !    Boom  !    Ah  ! 

Then  the  next  best-beloved  : 

Osky !    Wow  !    Wow  ! ! 
Whiskey!    Wee!    Wee!! 
Oley  —  Mucky — ei ! 
Oley —  Berkeley  -  ei ! 
Cali  —  form  —  ei !  ! 
Wow !  ! 


For  the   Blue  and   Gold 


The  air  fairly  pulsates,  as  Captain  Hawley,  taking  one 
of  James'  punts  on  the  run,  tucks  it  under  his  arm,  and, 
with  a  magnificent  display  of  scattered  field  running,  dodges 
and  straight-arms  his  way  through  the  second  eleven  for 
seventy  yards  to  a  touch-down.  Pandemonium  breaks 
loose. 

"Hawley,  Hawley,  good  boy,  Hawley!"  "What's 
the  matter  with  Captain  Hawley  ! ' '  ' '  Three  cheers  for 
Dick  Hawley,"  are  given  one  after  the  other  vociferously. 

Then,  as  the  steaming  players  pull  their  sweaters  over 
their  heads  and  trot  off  the  field  over  to  the  Gym,  the 
exultant  spirit  of  victory  breaks  forth,  and,  led  by  the  band, 
a  serpentine  is  formed,  zigzagging  across  the  campus. 
Every  voice  is  lifted  in  *  *  Palms  of  Victory ' '  : 

"  What  will  we  do  to  the  Standfordites  ?  " 

Thanksgiving  Day  ! 
We'll  celebrate  them  on  that  night 

After  we  play. 
We  now  declare  that  our  hoodo's  gone 

Garrett  is  here. 
Hit  'em  again,  boys  ! 
Hit  'em  again,  boys  ! 
Harder ! 

Palms  of  victory, 
Palms  of  glory, 

Palms  of  victory  we  shall  win  — 
Cal  —  i  —  Cal  —  i  —  forma  — 
Palms  of  victory, 
Palms  of  glory, 
Palms  of  victory  we  shall  win. 

Soon  came  the  matches  with  the  athletic  clubs.  One  Sat- 
urday, as  the  trainer  and  Garrett  had  noticed  appearances 


Who's  Afraid?  71 


of  staleness  in   Carter,  James   played  his  position  against 
the  Olympics. 

" Congrats,  Jim  ;  you'll  make  it  yet,"  said  Percy. 

"Not  much  danger.  I'll  see  the  game  from  the  side- 
lines and  make  believe  that  I  don't  want  something  to 
happen  to  Pete." 

Rawson  put  up  a  good  game — bucked  hard,  tackled 
low  and  kicked  steady,  and  was  directly  responsible  for  one 
of  the  three  touch-downs  scored  against  the  athletic  club. 

After  the  game  Garrett  remarked  to  Hawley  :  * '  Raw- 
son  did  pretty  well  today.  We'll  have  to  pay  more  atten- 
tion to  him.  At  first  sight  he  looks  almost  too  loose- 
jointed  for  his  position,  but  he  holds  himself  together  all 
right  for  a  man  of  his  length." 

"  Yes,  and  he  takes  to  the  kicking  naturally." 

4 'He  doesn't  get  started  quick  enough,  but  we  can 
improve  upon  that.  I  guess,  Dick,  we'd  better  lay  Pete  off 
for  a  week  and  send  him  home.  He's  pretty  fine.  He 
seems  to  have  gone  back  on  his  feed.  A  man  ought  not  to 
be  five  pounds  underweight  at  this  stage  of  the  game." 

"  How's  Jim's  weight  ?  ' ' 

"I  don't  think  he's  lost  a  pound  since  the  first  day 
we  took  it.  He  doesn't  seem  to  be  troubled  much  with 
nerves." 

' '  Well,  then,  he  goes  on  the  varsity  Monday.' ' 

After  the  game  James  missed  his  boat  back  to 
Berkeley,  and  was  half  an  hour  late  for  dinner.  Mrs. 
Saunders'  bread  must  have  spoiled  on  her  that  afternoon, 
for,  although  Miss  Gray  and  Davis  were  the  only  boarders 
at  the  table,  the  old  lady  gave  James  a  look  with  her 
"  good  evening  "  that  even  he  did  not  miss. 


72  For  the   Blue  and  Gold 


' '  Who  won,  Mr.  Rawson  ?  ' '  queried  Miss  Gray. 

"We  did — seventeen  to  nothing." 

4 '  How  fine  !  And  you  played  full-back  on  the  varsity, 
didn't  you  ?  Don't  you  feel  tired?  " 

"  No,  not  very." 

"  Getting  to  be  quite  a  football  player,  I  see,  Rawson. 
Had  your  picture  in  the  paper  this  morning.  Don't  it  cut 
into  your  college  work?  "  queried  Davis. 

"  No,  not  yet,  though  it's  managed  to  bring  me  home 
late  to  dinner  today.  But  I  realize  that  from  now  on  it's 
going  to  be  pretty  hard  to  keep  the  two  balanced." 

"Almost  impossible,  I  should  say.  I  don't  believe 
that  most  players  try. ' ' 

"I  wouldn't  say  that.  I  know  three  fellows  on  the 
varsity  who  are  taking  their  eighteen  hours,  two  of  them  in 
the  Mining  College,  where  there  are  not  many  snaps.  You 
know,  yourself,  that  Carroll  does  first  section  work  in  the 
Philosophy  Department. ' ' 

"Yes,  but  those  are  exceptions.  They  don't  prove 
the  rule.  It  is  a  fact  that  the  brain  will  not  work  well  after 
too  much  physical  exercise.  I've  tried  it  myself.  When  I 
was  taking  Philosophy  3  we  read  a  German  history  of  phil- 
osophy where  you  had  to  get  every  word  separately  in  order 
to  keep  the  run  of  it.  Ten  pages  an  hour  was  quick  work. 
I  thought  that  perhaps  some  good  exercise  would  put  me  in 
better  trim  for  it,  so  each  morning  I  walked  out  briskly 
about  six  blocks.  But  I  found  that  after  the  physical  exer- 
tion I  could  not  pin  my  mind  down  to  Windleband  at  all. 
That  convinced  me  that  too  much  exercise  is  not  good  for 
the  brain-worker." 

"So?     I  have  found  that  after  the  sharpest  football 


Who's  Afraid?  73 


practice  and  a  good  dinner  I  can  put  in  a  fine  night's 
study." 

"I  think  that  I  agree  with  Mr.  Rawson,"  ventured 
Miss  Gray.  "But  perhaps  each  person  is  a  law  unto  him- 
self in  this  matter  as  in  all  other  things  pertaining  to  his 
physical  well-being." 

"I  agree  with  Mr.  Davis,"  Mrs.  Saunders'  jaws 
snapped  decisively.  ' '  This  athletic  business  is  altogether  over- 
done here.  When  I  was  young,  boys  were  more  sensible. 
There's  Mr.  Hawley,  now.  They  brought  him  home  with  a 
broken  leg  last  year.  Lord  knows  what' s  before  him  this  time. 
I  wouldn't  like  to  be  his  mother,"  and  the  jaws  snapped  again. 

That  night  James  lay  awake  a  long  time  thinking  things 
over.  "  Wonder  if  I  hadn't  better  drop  this  football  busi- 
ness?" he  sighed.  "The  old  lady  had  a  bad  sourball  on 
this  evening,  and  she  was  right.  I  ought  not  to  let  fun 
interfere  with  work.  Next  year  I'll  be  in  a  better  position 
to  play,  but  as  long  as  it's  this  way  I  ought  to  quit.  Well, 
that's  settled."  (Another  sigh.)  "Football  goes,"  and 
he  turned  around  and  tried  to  go  to  sleep. 

But  it  was  easier  said  than  done.  Next  afternoon 
James  went  to  the  Gym  to  inform  Garrett  and  Hawley  of  his 
determination. 

"Here,  Rawson,"  greeted  the  coach.  "You  go  to 
full  on  the  varsity  today." 

"  I've  come  to  tell  you  that  I'll  have  to  pull  out." 

"What?"  they  chorused,  incredulously. 

"Straight  goods.  It  cuts  into  my  work  too  much. 
My  boss  doesn't  like  it." 

"Come,  come  ! "  replied  Garrett,  impatiently.  "  Quit 
that.  You  can't  leave  the  college  in  the  lurch  like  that. 


74  For  the   Blue   and  Gold 


We've  just  laid  Pete  off  and  sent  him  home  for  a  few  days, 
and  we  want  you  to  get  into  his  position.  Put  on  your  suit 
now  and  tumble  out." 

With  more  to  this  effect  and  with  Percy's  aid,  James 
was  prevailed  upon  to  stay  with  the  game,  at  least  until  Car- 
ter came  back.  On  the  gridiron  it  became  known  that 
Rawson  had  wanted  to  quit  in  Carter's  absence,  and  many 
crowded  around  James  between  the  halves  to  urge  him  to 
stay  with  it.  Rawson  had  had  no  idea  that  it  was  going  to 
be  so  hard.  Nor  was  adverse  criticism  lacking.  Over  on 
the  side-lines,  where  Captain  Holland  and  a  few  of  his 
friends  of  the  gold-braided  ' '  military  push ' '  stood  rolling 
cigarettes,  the  talk  was  of  "  cold  feet." 

"What  can  you  expect  of  a  raw  guy  like  that?" 
sneered  Holland.  "Rawson's  his  name  and  raw  he  is,  all 
right.  I'll  get  him  a  hot  old  roast  in  the  Californian  if  he 
throws  us  down  like  that. ' ' 

Practice  lasted  longer  than  usual  for  James  that  night, 
as  he  was  the  object  of  special  attention  from  Garrett. 
Upon  reaching  home,  James  was  favored  by  another  of  Mrs. 
Saunders'  withering  looks.  After  dinner  he  approached  the 
old  lady.  He  thought  that  he  owed  h~r  an  explanation. 
"  I've  decided  to  quit  football,  Mrs.  Saunders,"  he  began, 
* '  but  they've  urged  me  to  stay  with  it  a  few  days  longer  until 
Carter  returns.  Then  I'll  pull  out." 

"  Don't  quit  on  my  account,  Mr.  Rawson,  but  I  think 
it  is  for  your  own  good.  I  don't  want  to  be  prying,  but 
where  would  you  be  if  they  should  bring  you  home  with  a 
broken  limb?" 

"  I  hadn't  thought  of  that,"  smiled  James.  He  had 
developed  a  real  liking  for  the  old  lady,  for  he  appreciated 


Who's  Afraid?  1S 


that  she  was  the  right  sort  behind  the  stern  front,  which  she 
wore  merely  as  a  bluff  to  warn  off  any  who  might  try  to 
take  advantage  of  a  poor,  lone  widow. 

When  Carter  arrived  home  in  the  middle  of  the  term 
for  a  few  days'  rest,  his  mother  looked  at  his  thin,  drawn 
face  and  sent  for  the  doctor,  under  protests.  The  doctor 
took  Pete  into  a  room,  asked  him  to  strip,  and,  after  an 
extended  examination,  looked  serious.  "  My  boy,  you  are 
developing  a  case  of  hypertrophy  of  the  heart.  There's 
been  too  much  football.  You'll  have  to  quit." 

So  the  dictum  went  forth  from  the  head  of  the  house 
that  there  was  to  be  no  more  football  for  Pete.  Next  day 
Pete  himself  sorrowfully  brought  the  news  back  to  the 
campus.  ' f  You  go  up  and  see  the  old  man,  Garrett,  and 
you,  too,  Dick,  and  try  what  you  can  do  with  him.  I'm 
afraid  it  won't  be  much.  When  he  once  puts  his  foot  down 
it  stays  down." 

They  went,  but  got  such  decisive  assurances  that  they 
realized  that  further  effort  would  be  wasted.  Papa  Carter 
asked  the  gentlemen  into  the  library,  handed  around  a  box 
of  Henry  Clays,  and  then  said  that  he  would  defer  to 
mother.  A  wan,  little,  old  lady  came  in,  soon  got  warmed 
up,  asked  them  how  they  could  be  so  cruel  as  to  kill  her 
only  son  off  for  her  and  burst  into  tears.  Papa  Carter  arose, 
waved  his  hands  deprecatingly  and  said  :  "  Gentlemen,  you 
see  how  it  is.  I  trust  that  you  will  do  nothing  to  injure 
Pete's  prospects."  This  ended  the  interview.  Outside, 
Hawley  threw  his  unlighted  Henry  Clay  savagely  into  the 
gutter. 

' '  There's  no  getting  around  that  combination."  And 
Garrett  agreed. 


7 6          For   the   Blue   and  Gold 


The  college  had  lost  the  services  of  Carter,  the 
veteran,  the  sure  punter  and  reliable  ground  gainer. 
"  The  loss  is  irreparable,"  was  the  general  verdict.  Down 
at  Stanford  the  news  came  as  a  rift  in  the  clouds. 

"  Pete's  back,  Dick ;  I'll  have  to  quit  now." 

1  'Jim,  you  simply  can't,"  protested  Hawley.  "  Pete  is 
out  of  it  for  good,  and  we  haven't  anybody  that  will  fit  into 
his  place  but  you.  You'll  have  to  stay  with  it  and  work 
harder  than  ever  from  now  on.  The  whole  college  is  look- 
ing at  you." 

"I'm  mighty  sorry,  Dick,  but  I  promised  the  old  lady 
that  I'd  quit.  It  cuts  into  my  work  and  she  doesn't  like  it, 
and  from  now  on  it  will  take  up  even  more  time.  We  go 
to  the  training  table  tomorrow,  and  you  know  that  I  haven't 
got  the  price.  Besides,  you  can  develop  as  good  a  full  as  I, 
or  a  better  one,  if  you  try." 

Hawley  was  a  sensible  fellow.  He  had  a  real  liking 
for  Rawson,  and,  from  being  on  the  ground,  thoroughly 
understood  his  position.  Afterwards,  when  seemingly  the 
whole  college  was  down  on  him,  it  came  back  to  Rawson 
as  a  bit  of  irony,  that  in  Captain  Hawley,  the  one  most 
vitally  interested,  he  should  find  his  only  sympathizer. 

"Jim,   I  understand  your  position.     I'll  have    a  talk 
with  Garrett  and  see  if  we  can  fix  it  up  somehow.     You  do 
the  best  you  can  to  stay  by  us,  and  I'll  see  if  we  can  put 
you  in  the  way  of  staying  with  the  game." 
"  Shake." 

"  Put  it  there." 

Rawson  went  back  to  his  work  feeling  that  he  had  done 
the  best  —  the  only  thing  for  himself  —  and  not  sensible  that 
he  had  inflicted  any  appreciable  damage  on  the  college. 


Whos  Afraid?  77 


He  stayed  away  from  football  practice,  as  he  did  not 
think  that  his  presence  down  there  as  spectator  would 
be  well  taken.  But  it  was  a  hard  struggle.  Many 
an  afternoon  as  he  saw  the  crowds  gathering  down 
on  the  gridiron  and  heard  the  rooting  and  the  inspir- 
ing strains  of  the  band,  a  longing  and  a  feeling  of 
utter  loneliness  overcame  him  that  was  hardly  to  be 
shaken  off.  He  tried  to  bury  these  feelings  in  his  work, 
and  spent  much  time  in  the  library  working  up  his  freshman 
theme,  which  would  soon  be  due. 

Rawson's  action  in  withdrawing  from  the  team  at  such 
a  critical  time  met  with  seemingly  unanimous  condemna- 
tion from  the  college  at  large,  his  acquaintances,  even  from 
his  best  friends.  They  could  not,  or  would  not,  understand 
and  condone  it,  and  had  to  assent  to  the  position  of  the 
Californian,  which,  in  successive  issues,  delivered  itself  of 
biting  innuendos.  The  consensus  of  opinion  was  that,  as 
the  college  needed  his  services,  Rawson  showed  lack  of 
proper  college  spirit  in  not  promptly  responding,  no  matter 
how  great  the  sacrifice  of  his  personal  affairs  this  would 
entail.  And,  if  the  college  man  recognizes  an  unpardonable 
crime,  it  is  this  "  lack  of  college  spirit." 

James  was  not  in  the  habit  of  carrying  his  personal  affairs 
on  his  sleeve,  even  for  the  inspection  of  his  intimates.  But, 
to  Percy  and  George,  he  felt  that  he  owed  an  explanation. 

They  both  shook  their  heads.  "I  don't  know,  Jim. 
It  looks  hard,  but,  under  the  circumstances,  there  is  no 
sacrifice  that  you  shouldn't  make  in  order  to  stay  with  the 
game.  I  don't  think  that  the  college  will  accept  any 
excuses.  The  college'll  help  you  if  you  need  it,  but  it 
won't  excuse  you  if  you  throw  it  down." 


7  8  For  the   Blue   and  Gold 


"  I  don't  want  their  help.  I  know  my  own  business 
best."  And,  as  his  friends  left  him,  James'  heart  sank  with 
the  thought  that  even  they  did  not  sympathize  with  his 
position. 

The  freshman  game  came  and  went  and  brought  a  vic- 
tory to  California.  But,  in  the  doubtful  days  before  the 
game,  it  had  not  been  the  least  part  of  Rawson's  burden 
that  his  classmates,  almost  to  a  man,  were  his  heaviest  cen- 
surers.  The  light  freshman  team  needed  his  services  even 
more  than  the  varsity,  and  it  is  a  much  more  personal  thing 
for  a  man  to  go  back  on  his  class  than  on  his  college. 

"You're  making  a  big  mistake,  Jim,"  George  would 
say.  "There's  no  sense  in  being  bull-headed.  You  can't 
afford  to  get  the  whole  college  sourballed  on  you.  You 
could  go  back,  you  know,  tomorrow,  if  you  didn't  have 
such  high  and  lofty  notions  in  your  head." 

"Let's  agree  to  disagree,  Cub,  and  not  talk  about  it 
any  more,"  answered  James,  placing  his  hand  on  his  friend's 
shoulder. 

Down  on  the  gridiron,  as  the  October  days  slipped  by, 
that  much  desired  element,  team-work,  was  finally  making 
its  appearance.  The  mid-season  slump, had  been  passed  in 
safety,  the  freshmen  were  out  of  the  way,  and  no  serious 
injuries  had  occurred  to  deprive  the  team  of  its  principal 
players.  A  few  muscle  bruises,  and  a  couple  of  cases  of 
the  footballist's  old  friend,  water  on  the  knee,  had  appeared, 
and  these,  properly  magnified,  were  served  up  to  the  read- 
ers of  the  daily  papers  for  the  production  of  over  confidence 
down  at  Palo  Alto.  The  positions  of  left  tackle,  quarter 
and  full-back  were  about  the  only  ones  in  doubt.  This  last 
was  the  fly  in  the  ointment  of  U.  C.  content.  Several  men 


Who's   Afraid?  79 


had  been  tried  out  (one  shifted  back  from  the  line),  but 
none  so  far  had  shown  distinct  ability  at  kicking,  and  a 
kicker  was  the  sine  qua  non  of  the  team.  The  efforts  to 
bring  Carter  out  had  gone  on  unceasingly,  but  without  avail. 

From  the  size  and  noise  of  the  rallies  that  took  place 
daily  on  the  gridiron  and  occasionally  in  the  Gym  at  night, 
there  could  be  no  doubt  but  that  the  whole  college  was 
behind  the  team.  And  this  moral  support  was  what  the 
players  had  to  feel  in  order  to  play  their  best.  As  Garrett 
said  to  the  students  on  every  occasion  :  "You  really  play 
the  game  ;  it  is  for  you  to  win  or  lose  it,  by  putting  your 
spirit  into  the  men." 

Never  before  had  ' '  college  spirit ' '  been  so  intense  — 
reached  such  a  pitch  —  as  during  those  latter  October  days. 
Almost  every  day  rally  notices  would  be  stuck  on  hats,  and, 
in  the  afternoon  the  whole  college,  seemingly,  would  troop 
down  to  the  gridiron,  preceded  by  ;the  band  and  the  yell 
leader.  Co-eds  would  fill  their  end  of  the  bleachers  and 
try  to  tell  one  another  the  difference  between  a  touch-down 
and  a  drop-kick.  Case-hardened  digs,  "  dead  to  rapture," 
would  be  seen  issuing  from  the  library  to  ask  what  the 
unwonted  disturbance  meant,  and  end  by  joining  the  proces- 
sion gridironward.  Warren,  in  his  fourth  year,  was  learn- 
ing to  yell  "Oski-Wow".  And  last,  but  by  no  means 
least,  the  jolly  "mining  push"  would  come  marching  up, 
swinging  their  hammers,  their  leathern  lungs  doing  yeoman 
service  in  the  rooting.  Many  of  the  players  were  their 
fellows,  as  more  than  a  proportion  of  the  footballers  come 
from  the  husky  men  of  the  Mining  College. 

"  Coming  to  the  rally  tonight,  Jim  ?  "  asked  Percy. 

"  Yes,  guess  I  will.     I'd  like  to  get  some  excitement. 


80          For   the  Blue   and  Gold 


Been  feeling  a  trifle  rusty  since  you've  all  been  taking  to 
jumping  on  my  neck." 

Percy  gives  his  friend  a  pat  on  the  shoulder.  ' '  Never 
mind,  old  man,  watch  and  wait;  that's  my  motto.  Maybe 
something '11  turn  up  yet." 

Of  late  Percy  has  had  a  presentiment  that  James  is 
going  to  be  brought  around  in  time.  "George,"  he  had 
said,  "  I  have  a  feeling  in  my  heart ;  I  can't  explain  it,  but 
it's  there,  just  the  same,  that  something  will  turn  up  yet, 
before  it' s  too  late,  so  that  Jim  will  come  back  into  the  game. ' ' 

"By  the  way,  Jim,"  continued  Percy,  as  they  were 
walking  over  toward  the  Gym,  "what's  there  in  this  latest 
Californian  yarn  that  a  certain  recalcitrant  had  a  good 
chance  to  go  back  into  the  game  and  wouldn't  take  it  ? ' ' 

11  Oh,  about  the  same  proposition  as  the  others  I  told 
you  of.  I  won't  play  football  on  those  terms.  It  means 
either  that  I  turn  professional  and  take  charity,  or  that  I 
mortgage  my  next  year's  prospects  for  the  privilege  of 
playing  football  for  a  few  weeks.  That's  not  what  I 
came  to  college  for.  This  fellow  —  he  was  a  middle-aged 
chap  —  told  me  that  I  could  draw  on  him  for  my  expenses 
for  the  rest  of  the  term  if  I'  d  throw  my  job  up  and  go  back 
into  the  practice.  He  said  he  was  an  alumnus,  but  couldn't 
reveal  the  source  of  the  offer  until  I'd  pledged  to  accept." 

"I  bet  he  meant  business,  Jim.  If  you  only  weren't 
so  hanged  particular,"  sighed  Percy. 

The  big  game  was  now  less  than  three  weeks  off,  and 
this  was  the  first  of  several  final  rallies  to  intensify  college 
spirit  and  strengthen  the  players  in  the  feeling  that  they  had 
a  united  student  body  behind  them.  Downstairs  the 
rooters  reigned  supreme.  Upstairs  were  the  quiescent 


Who's  Afraid?  8 1 


co-eds  and  the  outsiders.  President,  faculty,  coaches,  team 
and  * '  prominent  students ' '  occupied  the  positions  of  honor. 
What,  with  the  band  and  the  rooters,  with  their  yells  and 
choruses,  the  very  rafters  vibrated  and  the  co-eds'  eyes 
blinked. 

Over  and  over  again  thundered  out  the  California  yell, 
"Oski-Wow-Wow,"  "  What's  the  matter  with  this 
fellow?  "  or  "Three  cheers  for  the  other  fellow."  "  Palms 
of  Victory,"  too,  and  "  California's  bound  to  win." 

There's  a  banner  bright  of   blue    and    gold  which 

proudly  we  display  ! 

There's  a  peerless  team  whose  prowess  fills  the  red- 
shirts  with  dismay ! 
There's  a  mighty  chorus  thund'ring  from  the  campus 

to  the  bay, 
California's  bound  to  win  ! 

We'll  shout  for  dear  old  California  ! 

Shout  for  dear  old  California  ! 

We'll  shout  for  dear  old  California  ! 

California's  bound  to  win  ! 

Between  these  interludes  the  speakers  arose  and  deliv- 
ered short,  inspiring  addresses.  President,  professors,  bald- 
headed  alumni  reviewed  the  various  aspects  of  the  situation, 
told  how  they  used  to  do  it,  and  called  upon  the  whole  col- 
lege to  stand  behind  the  team.  Garrett  got  up,  in  response 
to  cries  of  "  Garrett,  Garrett,  we  want  Garrett!"  and 
stood,  embarrassed,  while  the  rooters  slowly  intoned  : 

Here's  to  you,  friend  Garrett ! 

Here's  to  you,  my  jovial  friend  ! 

And  we'll  drink  before  this  God-forsaken  company  ! 

We'll  drink  before  we  part ! 

Here's  to  you,  friend  Garrett ! 


82  For  the   Blue  and  Gold 


Garrett  was  a  man  of  action,  rather  than  of  words,  and 
he  stood  nervously  fingering  his  cap.  ' '  We  have  a  good 
team  that  is  going  to  do  its  best  to  win.  I  know  that  every 
man  will  play  for  all  that's  in  him.  We  can't  say  positively 
that  our  team  will  win,  but  it  won't  be  its  fault  if  it  loses. 
The  team  can't  win  the  game  alone.  You  have  to  give  it 
your  united  support.  It  has  to  feel  that  every  student  in 
college  is  behind  it.  It  is  for  you,  really,  to  win  the  game 
or  lose  it  by  the  way  you  back  up  the  team." 

The  next  call  was  for  Captain  Hawley.  Several  other 
prominent  players  followed  him.  Finally,  when  everybody 
scheduled  had  said  his  say,  their  friends  began  to  push 
"prominent  students"  up  to  the  platform. 

Among  these  arose  Holland.  No  word  to  mar  the  per- 
fect harmony  of  the  occasion  had  yet  been  spoken,  and  it  was 
farthest  from  the  thought  of  the  audience  that  such  a  word  would 
be  uttered  on  such  an  occasion.  Holland  began,  as  the  others 
had,  with  a  '  'jolly. ' '  Then  he  paused  abruptly  and  coughed. 

'  *  It  is  with  reluctance  that  I  mention  a  subject  not  in 
perfect  harmony  with  this  gathering.  But  I  think  it  is  my 
duty  to  do  so,  if  thus  I  can  bring  an  individual  to  a  sense  of 
his  responsibility,  of  what  is  meant  by  the  words  'college 
spirit.'  The  team  lacks  one  player  to  perfect  its  organiza- 
tion. There  is  one  in  college  competent  to  fill  the  position, 
or  at  least  in  a  way  to  become  competent.  He  is  skulking 
in  his  tent.  We  know  not  why.  Is  it  caprice  ?  Is  it  what 
they  call  cold  feet !  Or  is  it  simply  holding  out  for  a  price  ? 
Nobody  but  himself  knows.  I  call  upon  a  united  college 
opinion  to  make  this  student  realize  that  there  are  duties  he 
owes  to  his  college — that  he  is  not  here  to  get  all  he  can 
and  return  nothing  ! " 


Who's  Afraid?  83 


Holland  stepped  down,  flushed  and  panting.  A  few 
hands  were  clapped  and  a  few  hisses  were  heard.  But  the 
main  body  of  the  audience,  even  the  rooters,  maintained  an 
amazed,  uncomfortable  silence,  not  knowing  just  what  to 
think  of  the  sudden  squall  that  had  blown  up. 

James  felt  himself  grow  hot  to  the  roots  of  his  nair,  and 
he  clenched  his  fists.  ' '  The  spiteful  scrub  !  Let  me  get  at 
him  ! ' '  And  he  was  for  jumping  forward  in  his  rage. 

"  Steady,  Jim."  Percy  laid  a  restraining  hand  on  his 
friend's  shoulder.  " There  goes  Dick  to  take  him  up." 

Hawley  had  listened  to  Holland's  speech  with  amaze- 
ment and  disgust.  He  knew  that  Holland  had  small  opinion 
of  James  as  a  player,  had  heard  him  express  it,  and  saw 
that  he  was  merely  trying  to  get  even.  The  captain  real- 
ized that  such  a  speech  would  strengthen  Rawson  in  his 
decision  not  to  come  back.  So  he  jumped  on  the  platform. 

"Good  boy,  Hawley!"  "What's  the  matter  with 
Dick  Hawley?  "  came  the  cry. 

"  I  am  sorry  that  anything  has  been  said  to  mar  the 
good  fellowship  of  our  rally.  We  all  know  who  the  student 
in  question  is.  He  has  earned  the  respect  of  everybody 
who  has  met  him,  as  a  man  and  as  a  football  player.  If  he 
had  kept  on,  he  would  have  been  a  tower  of  strength  to  the 
team  by  the  end  of  the  season.  As  captain,  there  was  no 
man  sorrier  than  myself  to  see  him  pull  out  of  the  game  just 
when  we  needed  him  most.  But  we  must  allow  that  every 
man  ought  to  know  his  own  business  best.  When  he,  as  a 
gentleman,  explains  his  reason  for  dropping  out,  we,  as 
gentlemen,  ought  to  accept  it.  Maybe  California  will  lose 
on  account  of  her  kicking,  but  let  us  not  blame  it  on  the 
man  who  would,  I  know,  kick  for  us  if  he  could." 


84          For   the  Blue   and  Gold 


Cheers  and  shouts  punctuated  Hawley's  speech.  The 
rooters  were  trying  to  yell  the  unpleasant  incident  out  of  the 
crowd's  mind.  In  a  lull  Percy  jumped  up,  and  waving  his 
cap,  shouted  :  ' '  Three  cheers  for  Jim  Rawson  ! "  In  the 
midst  of  the  demonstration  James  slipped  from  his  seat, 
unnoticed  by  Percy,  and  was  soon  in  the  open  air. 

For  a  while  Rawson  strode  along,  unconscious  of  his 
surroundings,  not  knowing  where  he  was  going.  He 
turned  alternately  hot  and  cold  as  he  dwelt  on  the  happen- 
ings oi  the  last  few  minutes.  He  could  not  think  coher- 
ently. A  series  of  images  was  flashing  through  his  mind. 
One,  most  prominent  and  continually  reverting,  that  of 
Holland's  cold,  sneering  face  as  he  stood  upon  the  platform 
heaping  indignity  and  insult  upon  him,  James  Rawson. 
"I'll  get  even  with  the  cur,  all  right." 

But  by  and  by  the  heat  subsided  to  a  more  grateful 
warmth  as  the  picture  of  Hawley  on  the  platform  recurred. 
And  the  cheers  that  had  followed.  * '  The  fellows  saw  that 
Holland  was  merely  trying  to  do  me  dirt."  Hawley's 
words  of  confidence  came  back,  but  with  them  the  captain's 
doubt :  * '  It  is  possible  that  California  will  lose  on  account 
of  her  kicking." 

This  thought  gave  James  pause.  It  marked  the  turning 
point  in  his  view  of  the  situation.  He  asked  himself  if  he 
had  done  quite  the  right  thing  after  all.  If  the  college  really 
needed  him  (dear  old  college  that  was  putting  such  fine 
things  in  his  way  —  that  was  opening  up  an  entirely  new 
life  to  him),  ought  he  not  to  have  cast  about  for  some 
means,  made  some  sacrifice,  in  order  to  help  out?  This 
thought  took  firmer  and  firmer  hold.  "I  guess  I  could 
have  found  a  way,  all  right,  if  I  hadn't  been  so  much  taken 


Who's  Afraid?  85 


up  with  myself.  Yes,  I  see,  a  fellow  has  to  make  some 
sacrifices,  no  matter  what  you  say.  It  would  be  pretty  bad 
if  we  should  lose  through  me. ' ' 

He  became  conscious  of  his  surroundings  now,  to  find 
that  he  had  strayed  down  along  the  creek  bed  below  the 
Agricultural  Building.  He  began  to  retrace  his  steps. 
"  Now,  if  I  could  only  find  a  job  that  would  bring  me  in  say 
twenty-five  and  give  me  time  to  study  and  practice.  Or  I 
might  borrow  it  and  pay  it  back  next  year.  There's  the 
old  lady,  though.  I'd  have  to  find  a  substitute  and  get 
her  to  agree.  I  couldn't  leave  her  in  the  lurch. " 

"  Excuse  me,  young  man  !  " 

"Pardon  me,  professor."  James  awoke  suddenly,  to 
find  that  he  was  on  the  path  between  the  Agricultural 
Building  and  the  Gym,  and  had  almost  crowded  one  of  the 
professors  of  "Cow  College"  off  the  road.  The  latter 
stepped  aside.  "What's  the  matter  with  the  rally?"  he 
asked,  to  readjust  matters,  as  he  made  to  pass  on. 

1 '  I  was  there. "     Shortly,  and  none  too  pleasantly. 

His  interlocutor  paused  and  took  a  good  look  at  James. 

"You're  going  in  the  wrong  direction.  Oh,  I  see, 
you  are  Rawson." 

' '  Yes,  sir. ' '  James  thrilled  with  an  inspiration.  ' '  One 
moment,  professor."  The  latter  had  started  on  his  way. 
James  got  to  his  side,  and,  in  a  breath,  explained :  "I'm 
looking  for  some  work.  I  know  more  about  agricultural 
things  than  anything  else.  Have  you  anything  down  there 
for  me  to  do?" 

They  kept  walking  slowly.  "  H'm,  I  don't  know  ;  let's 
see.  Something  in  the  manual  or  clerical  line,  of  course? " 


86          For  the   Blue  and   Gold 


"Either  —  yes,  sir.  I've  had  most  experience  with 
oranges." 

"Well,  we  don't  go  into  that  very  extensively  up 
here,  you  know,"  smiling.  "  However,  come  to  my  office 
at  nine  tomorrow  and  I'll  let  you  know  if  there's  anything 
to  do." 

"  Thank  you,  sir.     Thanks. "     James  lifted  his  hat. 

"You  haven't  got  it  yet.  Good  night,  Mr.  Rawson." 
He  held  out  his  hand. 

James  went  off  with  a  springy  step,  tomorrow's  pros- 
pect dancing  brightly  before  him,  the  evening's  pangs  left 
on  the  road  behind.  "  Talk  about  your  divine  interposi- 
tion !  This  just  fills  the  bill.  I'll  show  them  who's  got 
cold  feet.  There's  Percy.' ' 

The  rally  was  dispersing.  "Hello,  Jim,  I've  been 
looking  all  over  for  you.  Where  did  you  sneak  to  ? " 

' '  I  went  out  to  cool  off.  Ran  into  Prof  Wilson  of 
Cow  College,  down  the  road,  and  braced  him  for  a  job. ' ' 

"Jim,  put  it  there!  I  always  knew  you'd  come 
around.  I  used  to  tell  Cub  I  had  a  sort  of  presentiment  — 
a  hunch." 

Percy  was  fairly  bubbling  over  at  his  friend's  change  of 
heart.  "  Now,  we'll  show  those  knockers  some  football  !  " 

"Slow,   Perce,  maybe  I  won't  get  anything,  after  all." 

"  You'll  get  something,  all  right,  now  that  you've  got 
the  will." 

Next  morning  James,  with  a  new  brightness  in  his  eyes, 
met  Hawley  coming  from  a  9:25  recitation. 

"  Dick,  I'm  coming  out  for  practice  tonight  if  I  may.'* 

"  Sure,  Jim.  Shake  !  I  always  knew  that  you'd  come 
back.  But  what' s  happened  ? ' ' 


Who's  Afraid?  87 


James  briefly  told  of  his  accidental  meeting  with 
Professor  Wilson.  ' '  This  morning  he  wanted  to  know  all 
about  it.  I  told  him  just  how  I  stood,  and  that  I  wanted  to 
play  if  I  could  fairly  earn  the  money.  Then  he  began  to 
talk  farming  until  I  feared  he'd  forgotten  all  about  the  job. 
He  wanted  to  know  what  sort  of  work  I  was  registered  for, 
if  I  had  any  deficiencies,  and  lots  more.  Then  he  screwed 
up  his  face  and  looked  solemn.  He  wanted  me  to  under- 
stand plainly  that  I  wasn't  going  to  get  a 'job  from  him  on 
my  football  shape.  Well,  to  end  it,  alter  some  more 
hemming,  he  said  that  I  could  put  in  four  hours  a  day 
writing  labels,  sending  off  samples  and  working  down  in 
the  botanical  gardens.  This  is  just  the  time  of  year  when 
they  need  help  most.  But  there's  one  thing,  Dick.  I 
must  get  leave  from  the  old  lady  and  furnish  her  a  substi- 
tute." 

"Don't  worry.  I've  got  the  very  man.  We'll  fix  it 
up  at  noon." 

Hawley  executed  what  he  called  a  mass  play  on  Mrs. 
Saunders. 

"  We'll  show  that  snob,  Holland,  where  he  stands," 
and  the  old  lady's  jaws  snapped. 

The  next  day,  after  an  afternoon's  preliminary  work, 
there  was  a  shift  at  full-back.  James  entered  into  the  play 
with  an  immense  stock  of  stored-up  "ginger."  He  whiffed 
the  scent  of  the  sweat-soaked  jerseys  and  the  memories 
surged  strongly  through  him,  as  do  those  of  the  old  cam- 
paigner when  the  breeze  wafts  the  smell  of  the  burnt  pow- 
der across  his  nostrils.  He  was  simply  tingling  to  get  into 
action,  to  justify  the  cheers  of  his  friends  and  to  show  the 
sneerers  what  he  could  do.  His  long,  sinewy  legs  limbered 


88  For  the   Blue   and   Gold 


up  amazingly,  and  shot  the  ball  hurtling  as  from  a  mortar. 

"Good  kick,  Jim  !"  "Rawson,  Rawson,  good  boy, 
Rawson!"  "What's  the  matter  with  Rawson?"  yelled 
the  bleachers.  "Three  cheers  for  Jim  Rawson!" 
"  What's  the  matter  with  ninety  odd?"  echoed  the  fresh- 
men. 

"Take  those  bucks  a  little  easier,  Jim,  until  you  get 
seasoned  up  a  bit, "  cautioned  Garrett. 

Over  at  the  Gym,  after  practice,  an  interested  group 
gathered  at  the  scales.  They  sized  James  up  as  he  stepped 
on  the  scales,  and  they  sized  up  the  scales  as  he  stepped  off. 
"  One  hundred  and  eighty-five  and  a  half!  He  doesn't  run 
much  to  fat." 

' '  When  Gabriel  blows  his  horn  that  man  will  be  found 
in  condition,"  asserted  Al,  the  trainer. 

After  the  rub-down  they  lost  no  time  in  getting  to  the 
training-house.  James  took  his  place  at  the  table,  next  to 
Percy. 

"It's  your  turn  to  say  grace,  Jim,"  prompted  Hawley. 
"Freshmen  always  have  to  say  grace.  Duck  your  nut, 
now.  Down  you  go." 

A  baked  potato  from  the  other  end  of  the  table  empha- 
sized the  demand. 

"That's  no  fair,  Burt.  Wait  until  after  dinner.  We 
may  need  those  spuds  in  our  business. ' ' 

There  now  remained  but  sixteen  days  of  active  training 
and  James  had  no  time  to  lose.  He  was  fortunate  in  having 
his  college  work  right  up  to  the  notch,  the  theme  being 
already  finished.  Four  or  five  hours  daily  he  spent  in  the 
Agricultural  Department.  The  rest  of  the  time  he  lived 
football.  Kicking,  in  its  varieties,  he  practiced  morning, 


Who's  Afraid?  89 


noon  and  night,  under  the  eye  of  Carter,  who  was  with  him 
constantly.  From  him  Rawson  received  many  little  knacks 
and  tricks  that  were  invaluable,  such  as  a  player  would  not 
give  away  to  a  possible  rival.  Carter  had  a  large  bump  of 
college  spirit  and  took  James  as  his  protege".  After  dinner 
came  signal  practice  in  the  Gym  until  ten  o'clock.  And 
then  to  bed  and  to  sleep  (if  possible),  which  did  not  always 
mean  a  cessation  of  signal  practice.  So  passed  the 
days  until  the  afternoon  of  last  active  practice  at  length 
arrived. 

If,  on  previous  afternoons  it  had  seemed  as  if  the  entire 
college  had  turned  out,  on  this  last  day  it  certainly  appears 
as  if  the  whole  college  has  streamed  down  to  the  gridiron 
and  brought  its  relations  along.  Old  grads  are  there,  lured 
hundreds  of  miles  to  the  game.  The  rooters  come  in  a 
solid  phalanx  with  their  new  blue  and  gold  rooters'  caps. 
The  enthusiasm  is  unbounded. 

The  second  eleven  has  been  reinforced  on  the  line  by 
two  alumni,  old-timers,  but  hard  men  yet  for  all  that.  Thus 
strengthened,  the  scrubs  make  desperate  resistance  against 
the  varsity's  offense. 

"Who  knows  what  may  happen?"  says  each  scrub  to 
himself.  "  I  may  make  my  big  C  on  this  day's  practice," 
and  he  grits  his  teeth  and  plays  against  the  varsity  as  if  it 
were  Stanford. 

"Hunter,  Hunter,  good  boy,  Hunter!"  conies  the 
shout.  Percy  has  taken  the  ball  on  an  "ends-back ' '  forma- 
tion, plunged  through  tackle,  and  now,  bursting  from  the 
bunch,  the  ball  tightly  hugged  in  his  arm,  races  down  the 
field.  A  whirl  and  a  straight  arm.  The  scrub  full-back  is 
down  and  Percy  staggers  across  the  line  for  a  touch-down. 


90          For  the   Blue  and   Gold 


"  What  will  we  do  to  the  Stanfordites  on  Thanksgiving 

Day?"  is  the  exultant  chant. 

"  Line  up  there,  varsity,  line  up,  quickly  ! ' ' 

Now,  as  one  of  the  stiffest  lines  that  California  has  ever 

seen,  plants  itself,  close-locked,  firmly  down,  the  call  is  : 

"  Ends  and  center,  tackle,  guard  ; 
All  together,  hold  them  hard." 

Then,  as  Captain  Hawley  is  seen  to  mash  through  the 
interference  and  make  one  of  his  brilliant  tackles,  the  root- 
ers can  not  restrain  themselves,  and  the  yell  leader  cries  : 

' '  Six  cheers  for  Dick  Hawley  !     Hip,  hip,  hurrah  ! ' ' 

The  ball  is  on  the  scrubs'  thirty -yard  line.  Hawley, 
Percy  and  James  have  been  going  through  the  opposing  line 
almost  at  will.  It  is  first  down.  The  quarter  signals. 
James  drops  back  for  a  kick.  * '  A  try  at  a  field  goal  just 
for  fun." 

The  center  bends  over  the  ball.  Hoskins  steps  to  the 
side.  The  ball  goes  back,  true  and  not  too  high,  into  James' 
outstretched  hands.  The  line  blocks  hard  and  long. 
James  takes  careful  aim.  One  flash  of  his  long  leg,  and 
"punk  "  — the  ball  sails  gracefully  through  the  posts,  clear 
of  the  bar,  and  Rawson  goes  down,  like  a  thousand  of 
bricks,  before  the  alumnus  guards'  desperate  attempt  to 
block. 

"Rawson,  Rawson,  good  boy,  Rawson  !" 

"Oh,  what  won't  we  do  to  the  Stanfordites  on  Thanks- 
giving Day  ? ' ' 

The  November  dusk  is  falling  fast.  The  steam,  arising 
from  the  perspiring,  closely  huddled  players,  hovers  as  a 
mist  above  their  heads.  The  ball  is  put  in  play  for  the  last 


JFbos  Afraid?  9I 


time.  The  season's  active  practice  is  over  !  Gleefully  the 
players  wriggle  into  their  sweaters  and  trot  off  the  field  to 
the  Gym.  The  rooters  fairly  lift  themselves  off  the  bleach- 
ers with  three  tremendous  cheers  for  "the  team."  A  ser- 
pentine is  soon  formed.  Around  the  gridiron  it  zigzags, 
and  out  of  the  gate,  over  to  the  Gym.  The  spirit  of  vic- 
tory is  in  the  air. 

"  How  can  they  beat  us,  beat  us  ? 
How  can  they  beat  us,  beat  us  ? 
Call  —  for  —  ni  —  yah  ! 
For  it's  Calif orni  —  yah  !  " 

And  from  every  heart  the  answer  is,  ' '  They  cannot. ' ' 

The  nigfht  before  the  game,  when  the  final  line-up  was 
being  decided  upon,  Hawley  remarked  to  the  coach : 
"Somehow,  Garrett,  I  can't  feel  sorry  that  Jim  plays  full 
tomorrow  instead  of  Pete.  I  feel  that  he's  surer,  physi- 
cally, even  if  he  has  not  had  the  experience,  especially  at 
kicking." 

"Some  men  are  born  for  football.  They  have  the 
instinct.  Rawson  is  one.  He'll  kick  all  right.  He  doesn't 
start  quite  as  quick  as  Pete,  but  he  hits  the  line  harder,  and 
he  stays  on  his  feet  longer.  He'll  do." 

'Well,  tomorrow  this  time  it'll  be  over.    Good  night." 


CHAPTER   VII 
The  Big   Game 


Under  a  cloudless  sky  and  a  western  sun  a  city  of 
people  was  gathered  to  witness  the  struggles  of  the  youthful 
collegiate  gladiators.  San  Francisco  may  not  be  especially 
strong  on  summer  weather,  but  there  are  days  upon  days  in 
the  late  autumn,  even  in  midwinter,  which  are  all  to  her 
that  summer  days  could  be.  The  trade- winds  have  ceased 
to  blow  ;  the  ocean  fogs  have  ceased  to  roll ;  the  grass  is 
already  green,  and  the  sun  shines  comfortably  out  of  a 
fleckless  sky.  The  dusk  falls  and  the  air  cools  a  little 
earlier,  that  is  all.  The  weather  clerk  had  delivered  his 
best  ' '  Glorious  California ' '  article  on  that  Thanksgiving 
Day,  189-,  and  the  spectators,  perched  upon  the  tall 
bleachers,  were  casting  aside  their  wraps. 

The  intercollegiate  football  game  has  taken  its  place  as 
the  outdoor  spectacle  of  the  year.  It  is  the  city's  Roman 
holiday,  and  society  turns  out  in  full  force,  sits  upon  high- 
priced,  uncomfortable  seats,  bedecks  itself  with  the  most 
becoming  college  colors,  and  carries  flag  and  (sometimes) 
horn,  just  to  show  its  interest  in  the  higher  education. 
Truly  the  Cardinal  and  the  Blue  and  Gold  find  some  distant 
relatives  in  this  day. 

The  bleachers,  extending  around  three  sides  of  the 
field,  are  a  mass  of  gaily  colored  humanity.  Society,  under 
its  covered  grand  stand,  sits  on  one  side  of  the  field.  The 


The  Big   Game  93 


opposite  bleachers,  with  the  two  rooters'  sections,  is  the 
1 '  business ' '  side.  At  one  end,  in  a  separate  section,  sit 
and  yell  the  Cardinal  rooters  with  their  band ;  next,  their 
active  supporters ;  then  a  layer  of  California's  friends,  and 
next  her  rooters'  section,  a  solid  square  of  blue  and  gold 
caps,  the  beloved  band  down  in  front.  Off  on  the  end  of 
the  gridiron  perches  General  Admission  and  his  retinue  of 
faithful  followers.  There  they  sit,  a  sea  of  faces  and  of 
color,  the  largest  crowd  that  gathers  in  San  Francisco  the 
year  round  ;  colors  waving,  bands  playing,  and,  at  intervals, 
as  they  try  their  voices,  the  rooters  breaking  out  in  sharp, 
barklike  yells.  All  tensely  awaiting  for  their  champions  to 
appear. 

Down  in  the  dressing-room  under  the  grand  stand 
eleven  stalwart  Californians  in  blue  sweaters,  moleskins  and 
wasplike,  barred  stockings  are  awaiting  the  call  to  action. 
James  is  stooping  down  before  Percy  examining  the  cleats 
on  the  latter' s  shoes.  As  he  stands  up  he  looms  bigger 
than  in  civilian  dress.  The  football  costume,  with  its  knee- 
trousers  and  stockings,  has  taken  nothing  from  his  height, 
while  the  plentifully  distributed  padding  on  thighs,  knees, 
shoulders  and  elbows  adds  considerably  to  his  breadth. 
James  is  a  formidable  looking  customer  as  he  adjusts  his 
head-gear.  Though  his  heart  is  beating  with  anticipation, 
he  is  not  nervous.  His  eyes  still  shine  calm  and  cool,  and, 
as  he  shakes  hands  with  his  fellows,  his  palm  is  warm 
and  dry. 

It  is  pretty  hard  to  keep  calm  in  these  few  minutes 
before  the  call  to  action,  and  some,  who  will  be  all  right  the 
moment  they  get  into  the  first  scrimmage,  are  making  a 
poor  job  of  it  now.  It  is  chilly.  The  players,  some  sitting 


94          For  the    Blue  and   Gold 


on  boxes,  others  standing  up  around  the  room,  keep  pass- 
ing the  ball  from  one  hand  to  another  for  the  action  that  is 
in  it.  Above,  the  people  are  tramping  to  and  fro  to  their 
seats.  Al,  the  trainer,  bustles  around,  handing  out  gum 
and  offering  lime-water.  Hawley  walks  over  to  where 
Garrett  is  standing,  with  hands  rammed  down  into  pockets, 
and  talks  of  this  and  that  possibility. 

For,  out  of  all  the  misleading  newspaper  talk  and 
rumor  of  the  preparatory  season,  has  resulted  the  fact  that 
Stanford  has  issued  from  a  week's  secret  practice  at  the 
springs  with  a  far  better  team  in  far  better  shape  than  she 
had  led  folks  to  expect.  Sprained  ankles,  water  on  the 
knee,  poison  oak,  have  undergone  miraculous  cure,  permit- 
ting the  owners  —  stand-bys,  who  have  been  supposedly 
counted  out  of  the  game — to  be  in  the  line-up.  The  North 
Hall  steps*  early  season  estimate  of  36-0  is  now  but  a  fresh- 
man's dream. 

But  there  is  nothing  the  matter  with  the  U.  C.  team, 
either.  Its  hard  luck  tales  have  likewise  come  to  naught  in 
all  cases  except  that  of  Carter,  and  California  has  tried  to 
make  believe  that  no  fit  successor  has  been  found  for  him. 
California's  line  is  a  stiff — a  very  stiff — one,  though 
slightly  lighter  than  Stanford's.  Little  Hoskins,  a  bundle  of 
steel  springs,  has  gained  wonderfully  in  coolness,  passes 
accurately,  and  makes  every  one  of  his  one  hundred  and 
forty  pounds  count  in  backing  up  the  line.  The  halves  and 
full  —  Hawley,  Percy  and  James  —  play  together  like  one. 
The  whole  team,  in  fact,  goes  into  action  as  one  man,  and 
quickly.  Team  work  —  on  this,  California  has  banked  high 
her  hopes.  The  opponent's  average  weight  is  three  and 
one-half  pounds  greater  to  the  man. 


The   Big    Game  95 


"Is  everybody  fixed  for  gear?"  queries  Hawley. 
"Out  we  go." 

The  crucial  moment  is  fast  approaching.  Garrett 
jumps  upon  a  box,  nervously  snapping  his  fingers.  He 
pulls  his  hat  up  from  his  eyes. 

"Boys,  this  is  the  opportunity  of  your  lives.  A 
grander  opportunity  to  immortalize  your  names,  to  stamp 
them  indelibly  upon  the  pages  of  the  history  of  your  uni- 
versity, has  never  been  given  you.  For  many  years  did 
those  lobster-backs  make  you  bite  the  dust.  It  is  your  turn 
now.  Make  them  bite  and  bite  hard.  Play,  every  one  of 
you,  until^you  drop  in  your  tracks  ;  and  when  you  can't  play 
any  longer  we'll  put  another  man  in  your  place.  If  you  are 
repulsed  once,  come  at  them  again,  harder.  Just  think 
what  it  means  !  Here  are  twenty  thousand  people  to  watch 
you  !  Your  whole  college  is  here,  and  they  expect  you  to  win. 
Some  of  you  have  mothers  and  fathers  and  sisters  here  today, — 
yes,  boys,  some  of  you  have  sweethearts  here  who  are  wishing 
and  praying  that  you  may  win.  Play,  fellows,  play  for 
their  sakes  !  I^et  your  motto  be:  'Hit  'em  again,  harder, 
harder  ! ' '  >  and  Garrett  shakes  his  two  clenched  fists  in  the  air. 

His  words  bite  into  the  players  like  a  fiery  brand,  and, 
with  a  smothered  yell,  they  bound  out  of  the  room  into  the 
field,  the  cynosure  of  thousands  of  eyes. 

Such  a  deep,  swelling  roar  !  It  sounds  like  the  booming 
breakers. .  But  above  it,  as  the  yell  leader  lifts  his  hand,  comes 
the  California  yell  from  the  rooters'  section,  sharp,  bark-like  : 

Ha  !     Ha  !     Ha  ! 
Call  —  for  —  nia  ! 
U.C.Berkeley! 
Zip  !     Boom !    Ah  ! 


96          For  the  Blue  and   Gold 


Then  ' '  Oski-Wow  ! '  •  " Three  cheers  for  the  team  ! ' ' 
given  standing,  and  the  new  yells  in  quick  succession,  fol- 
lowed by  the  band  in  an  inspiring  march,  only  quieting 
down  for  critical  observation  of  the  warming-up  practice. 

The  substitutes  and  care-takers  trot  over  to  their  side- 
line. The  varsity  players  are  falling  on  the  ball  like  young 
colts  rolling  in  the  sand.  Then  James  takes  a  few  limber- 
ing-up kicks,  and,  as  they  note  his  easy,  long-limbed  action 
and  watch  the  hurtling  pigskin  mount,  the  Stanfordites 
open  their  eyes  a  little  wider.  Now  the  team  is  running 
through  the  signals,  up  and  down  the  field.  Finally,  as 
their  red-stockinged  opponents,  with  the  bulk-enhancing 
white  S  on  their  sweaters,  come  trotting  out,  the  California 
players  retire  to  the  side-lines. 

A  second  roar  surges  up  to  greet  the  men  of  the 
Cardinal,  and,  above  it,  the  rumble  : 

Rah!  Rah!  Rah! 
Rah!  Rah!  Rah! 
Rah!  Rah! 
Stanford  ! 

They,  too,  have  their  repertoire  of  yells  and  choruses, 
and  their  band,  and  the  uproar  lasts  as  before,  though 
perhaps  a  little  less  in  volume. 

The  captains  have  shaken  hands,  the  coin  has  been 
tossed,  sweaters  have  been  peeled,  and  California  takes  the 
ball  for  the  kick-off. 

Carefully  James  props  the  ball  up  at  the  correct  angle, 
tensely  the  ten  men  poise,  ready  to  dash  down  with  the 
sound  of  his  foot  upon  the  ball.  The  umpire's  whistle 
sounds  out  shrilly  upon  the  quiet  air.  "  Punk  !  "  And  a 
long,  low  drive  goes  hurtling  down  the  field.  The  line 


The  Big   Game  97 


leaps  forward  as  one  man.  Past  the  heads  of  the  opposing 
halves,  expectant,  sails  the  ball,  and  into  the  full-back's 
arms  at  his  five-yard  line.  Quickly  the  interference  forms, 
and  up  the  field  charge  the  cardinal  players.  One  by  one 
California  meets  them  and  puts  them  out  of  it.  Burton, 
the  speedy  left  end  and  savage  tackier,  is  down  the  field,  a 
heavy  guard  and  a  tackle  almost  with  him.  Smash  goes 
the  interference.  And  Burton,  with  a  flying  tackle,  brings 
the  Stanford  full-back  to  earth  at  the  twenty-yard  line. 
Quick  as  a  cat  the  other  end  is  on  him  to  hold  him  down. 

Now  is  the  real  test.  "Lineup  quickly,  boys,"  urges 
Murray,  the  Stanford  quarter.  The  California  line  is  as  if 
on  springs.  Will  it  hold  against  the  first  onslaught  ?  The 
rooters'  hearts  stand  still.  Quickly  the  ball  is  snapped]  and 
Stanford's  left  half  launches  himself  like  a  catapult  at  right 
tackle.  A  pushing,  heaving  mass  ;  underneath,  the  man 
hugging  the  ball.  ' '  Second  down.  Three  yards  to  gain." 

"  Rah  !  Rah  !  Rah  !  "  shouts  Stanford.  "  We'll  make 
our  distance  ! ' ' 

Every  U.  C.  man's  heart  sinks  within  him.  "Hold 
them,  California  !  "  exhort  the  rooters. 

"Line  up,  line  up." 

The  California  line  grits  its  teeth.  "Thump."  A 
straight  buck  on  center.  A  pushing,  heaving  mass,  and 
twenty- two  pairs  of  legs  and  arms  are  piled  in  a  seemingly 
inextricable  heap. 

"Not  an  inch,  not  an  inch,"  declare  the  U.  C. 
partisans,  jumping  up  and  down. 

"Third  down.  -  Three  yards  to  gain." 

California's  turn  to  yell. 

Now  for  the  punt.     The  Cardinal's  quarter  is  the  best 


9  8  For  the   Blue  and  Gold 


kicker  she  has  ever  produced,  some  say,  the  best  that  the 
coast  has  yet  produced.  He  falls  back.  So  does  Rawson. 
A  long,  hard  drive,  sailing  high,  and  James  has  it  safely 
tucked  under  his  arm.  Forward  he  darts  behind  Hawley  and 
Percy,  his  free  hand  resting  lightly  on  the  latter' s  shoulder. 
The  line  has  blocked  long  and  hard,  but  now  several 
lusty  red-shirts  are  bearing  down  upon  them.  Hawley  blocks 
one,  the  other,  giving  Percy  the  shoulder,  nails  James,  who 
goes  down  hard,  but  manages  to  wriggle  onward  a  foot  on 
the  ground.  The  ball  is  resting  on  California's  fifty -yard 
line.  "  Good  boy,  Rawson  ! "  yell  the  rooters. 

California  now  has  the  ball.  The  first  high-strung 
nervousness  has  passed  off.  "How  will  Stanford's  line 
hold?"  is  the  question. 

"Ends  back!"  calls  Hoskins.  The  play  is  massed 
on  the  right  tackle.  They  gain  three  yards.  "Second 
down.  Two  yards  to  gain." 

' '  Zip,  boom,  ah  !"  The  Blue  and  Gold  is  wild.  They 
are  standing  up,  frantically  waving  their  flags.  "Hit 'em 
again,  boys  —  harder  !"  shout  the  rooters. 

Slowly,  on  short  gains,  but  nevertheless  surely,  Cali- 
fornia begins  to  back  her  opponent  down  the  field.  The 
Cardinal  does  not  seem  to  get  into  U.  C.'s  plays  quick 
enough.  California's  team-work  is  something  to  see.  Now 
a  plunge  through  tackle,  now  an  end  run.  Hawley  goes 
through  the  line  for  the  full  distance.  Percy  skirts  the  end 
for  three  yards.  James,  on  a  straight  buck,  goes  through 
center  for  the  other  two,  and  the  Cardinal  supporters  begin 
to  look  serious,  while  Hoskins  holds  his  hand  up  to  the  U. 
C.  rooters  for  quiet,  so  that  the  signals  can  be  heard.  Gar- 
rett  crouches  on  the  side  line,  clutching  at  the  ground. 


The   Big   Game  99 


Once  more  James  is  tried  against  the  center,  but  the 
Stanford  line  takes  a  tremendous  brace  and  he  is  thrown 
back  without  gain.  A  moment  later  U.  C.  is  forced  to  give 
the  ball  up  on  downs.  Stanford's  rooters  wake  up.  "  Now 
Cardinal,  try  it  again!"  Quickly  they  kick  the  ball  out 
of  danger,  as  the  play  has  been  within  scoring  distance  of  their 
goal.  A  moment  later  U.  C.  fumbles  and  Stanford  gets 
the  ball  again.  This  time  she  does  not  kick. 

Now,  on  a  second  down,  Stanford  has  three  yards  to  gain. 
The  ball  is  on  California's  forty-five-yard  line.  She  plays 
close.  Rawson,  always  scenting  trouble  from  that  Cardinal 
quarter,  lays  back.  Sure  enough  it  comes.  For,  suddenly, 
from  out  of  the  scrimmage,  emerges  Murray,  the  ball 
tucked  tightly  under  his  arm,  running  for  dear  life.  By  a 
miracle  he  has  cleared  the  U.  C.  backs  ;  all  except  the  full- 
back, running  down  to  meet  him,  expectant,  tense.  Nearer 
and  nearer  they  approach,  the  Stanford  quarter  fifteen  yards 
ahead  of  his  closest  pursuer.  The  bleachers  forget  to  yell. 
Now  the  runners  are  but  ten  yards  apart.  Rawson' s  eyes 
are  closely  watching  the  movements  of  the  other's  hips. 
Murray  gathers  himself  together  for  a  dodge.  It  is  a  hard 
thing  to  tackle  a  dodging  runner  head-on.  Will  James  do 
it  ?  They  are  almost  together.  It  looks  like  a  head-on  col- 
lision. With  a  sudden  plunge,  James  dives  at  him  full 
length.  Lightning-like  the  other  side-steps,  hopping  right  - 
from  between  Rawson's  embrace.  The  latter's  outstretched, 
clawing  hand  grasps  the  other's  shoe.  A  jerk.  The  run- 
ner stumbles,  but  is  up  again  and  off.  James,  too,  is  up  in 
a  flash,  casting  a  piece  of  leather  out  of  his  hand  with  an  air 
of  disgust.  Two  other  U.  C.  pursuers  are  balked  by  the 
dodging,  and  before  either  James  or  they  can  grasp  the 


ioo        For   the  Blue  and  Gold 


fleeting  form  it  has  fallen  exhausted,  after  a  forty-five-yard 
run,  between  the  California  goal-posts.  A  mighty,  simul- 
taneous roar  breaks  the  intense  silence,  and  for  minutes  the 
Cardinal  yells  rend  the  air,  only  calming  down  for  the  goal 
kick,  then  breaking  out  anew  : 

Rah  !  Rah !  Rah  ! 
Rah!  Rah!  Rah! 
Rah !  Rah ! 
Stanford ! 

James  stands  disconsolate,  digging  his  toe  into  the 
ground.  He  has  lost  the  game  for  his  college.  Oh,  how 
can  he  ever  look  his  mates  in  the  face  again  ?  They'  11  take 
him  out  now,  and  his  cheeks  burn  with  shame.  If  a  kindly 
hole  would  only  open  up  and  engulf  him.  Hawley 
approaches  and  pats  him  on  the  shoulders  encouragingly. 
"Good  try,  old  man.  Brace  up!  We've  taken  their 
measure."  Percy,  likewise,  cheers  his  chum  up.  '  *  They're 
dead  ones,  Jim,  after  this  half."  Thus  the  Californians  go 
about  and  hearten  up  one  another,  "while  Al  bustles  around 
with  sponge  and  water-bottle. 

The  goal  has  been  kicked,  and  the  score  is  :  Stan- 
ford, 6 ;  California,  0.  Twelve  minutes  of  play  left  of  the 
first  half. 

Once  more  they  line  up.  California  kicks  off.  There 
is  grim  determination  written  in  the  poise  of  every  U.  C. 
player.  Rawson's  kick-off  is  returned  by  Murray.  James 
follows  suit  with  a  fair  catch  and  a  free  kick,  which  the 
Cardinal  full-back  runs  in  to  her  forty-five-yard  line  before 
he  is  downed.  This  clever  display  of  punting  is  cheered 
lustily,  especially  by  the  California  rooters,  for  their  new 
man  has  held  his  own  pretty  well  in  the  exchange  of  kicks 


The  Big   Game  101 


with  the  much-feared  Cardinal  quarter.  There  has  been  all 
too  little  of  this  clean  kicking  on  California  gridirons. 

Soon  after  begins,  once  more,  that  slow,  but  sure 
advance  toward  the  Stanford  goal.  The  Cardinal  forwards 
grit  their  teeth.  James  gets  the  ball  for  repeated  bucks, 
low  and  hard,  and  the  Stanford  center  gets,  with  interest, 
what  Murray  had  not.  Reeling  with  the  impacts,  he 
clutches  blindly  at  the  flashing  canvas  shoulders  and  long 
legs  as  they  are  hurled  upon  him.  Hoskins  has  at  last 
found  the  weak  spot  in  the  opponent's  line,  and  he  skil- 
fully launches  his  plays  at  it  with  remorseless  regularity. 
Occasionally  the  program  is  varied,  as  when  Percy  is  sent 
around  the  end,  in  the  hopes  of  a  long  run  ;  or  when 
Hawley,  on  a  plunging,  swirling  mass  on  tackle,  bursts 
from  the  bunch  and  staggers  full  five  yards  before  he  is 
downed  by  the  doughty  Cardinal  quarter. 

But  the  precious  moments  are  slipping  by  and  the  ball 
is  only  approaching  scoring  territory,  the  Stanford  twenty- 
five-yard  line.  The  Cardinal  players,  their  faces  drawn  in 
grim  determination,  play  on  in  an  agony  of  hope  for  the 
sound  of  the  whistle.  Between  downs  they  slap  one 
another  on  the  back,  and  speak  words  of  encouragement  to 
the  dazed,  dogged  center.  U.  C.  pounds  feverishly  on 
against  time.  "Jim,  we  must  put  it  over  this  half!  "  pants 
Percy,  recklessly  throwing  away  his  head-gear  as  an  imped- 
iment. Rawson  grits  his  teeth  and  his  eyes  gleam  hotly 
out  of  his  dirt-streaked  face. 

Once  more  the  linesmen  move  up,  and  the  ball  is  just 
over  the  Stanford  twenty-five-yard  line.  But  the  moments 
are  fleeting  fast.  After  the  next  down,  Hawley  whispers  in 
Rawson' s  ear.  The  latter  nods  shortly.  In  the  momentary 


102 


For  the  Blue  and  Gold 


silence,  the  quarter's  clear,  young  voice  floats  across  the  field : 
"17-85-42."  James  drops  back  a  few  feet.  Hoskins 
steps  to  the  side.  The  center  tosses  the  ball  back,  true  and 
not  too  high.  James  catches  it  in  position.  The  line 
blocks  long  and  hard  as  he  takes  unhurried  measurement, 
with  eyes  for  nothing  but  the  ball.  "Punk!"  his  toe 
meets  the  ball.  Squarely,  and  cleanly  and  easily  it  sails, 
above  the  heads  of  the  onrushing  blockers,  between  the  goal- 
posts, barely  clearing  the  cross-bar.  And  the  score  is 
5  -  6  !  The  kicker  does  not  see  the  result,  for,  barely  has 
the  ball  left  his  toe,  before  he  goes  down  below  the  opposing 
guard  who  has  broken  through,  and,  leaping  at  Rawson, 
strikes  him  heavily  on  the  chest. 

But  the  roar  of  the  multitude  announces  the  result. 
Every  U.  C.  sympathizer  is  on  his  feet  yelling  like  mad. 
Flags  wave  frantically.  In  quick  succession  the  rooters 
reel  off  their  yells,  ending  up  with  ' '  three  cheers  for  Jim 
Rawson  ! ' '  Stanford  tries  to  outyell  them,  barely  realizing 
what  has  happened.  Indeed,  so  unexpectedly  and  quickly 
has  it  happened  that  it  is  hard  even  for  the  Californians  to 
realize  that,  in  a  moment,  the  score  has  been  almost  evened. 
In  the  midst  of  the  uproar,  the  whistle  blows.  The  first 
half  is  over.  Quickly  the  players  trot  for  their  quarters, 
Stanford  relieved  that  it  is  half  over  with  the  score  in  her 
favor,  and  each  California  heart  exulting  in  the  thought  of 
1 '  what  we  will  do  in  the  next  half. ' ' 

"Nice  work,   Jim,"    congratulates    Garrett,   slapping 
him  on  the  back. 

"Shake,  Jim!     You  did  yourself  proud,"  says  Percy. 

But  these  ten  minutes  are  not  given  over  to  the  throw- 
ing of  bouquets.     This  is  the  coach's  own  time  for  ripping 


The   Big   Game  103 


things  up  the  back.  Garrett  is  talking  as  fast  as  he  can, 
chiding,  correcting,  pointing  out  weak  spots  in  their  own 
and  in  their  opponent's  play,  and  outlining  and  revising  the 
policy  for  the  next  half.  Al  and  the  doctor  are  every- 
where. Old  bandages  are  renewed,  new  ones  put  on, 
gear  is  readjusted.  Soon  the  ten  minutes  slip  away,  and, 
with  a  few  more  tense  words,  they  trot  out  for  the  second 
half,  refreshed  in  body  and  strengthened  in  spirit,  to  do  or  die. 

Stanford  kicks  off.  The  first  down  brings  evidence 
that,  with  two  fresh  men  in  her  line,  the  Cardinal  has  taken 
a  mighty  brace.  California  loses  the  ball  on  downs,  and 
then,  for  a  while,  Stanford  turns  the  tables  and  gives  U.  C. 
some  gruelling  practice  on  the  defensive.  Slowly,  fighting 
desperately  for  every  inch  of  ground,  the  Blue  and  Gold  is 
forced  back  from  one  white  line  to  another.  Frantically  the 
rooters  exhort :  "  Hold  them,  California  ! "  And  as  if  in 
answer,  although  they  hear  no  word  of  it  all,  the  line  takes 
a  tremendous  brace,  and  in  quick  succession  piles  two  plays 
up  in  a  heap,  without  a  foot  of  gain. 

Now  California  has  the  ball,  and  once  more  her  offense 
comes  into  play.  But  she  has  a  long  journey  to  travel. 
The  second  half  begins  to  wear  away  as  the  battle  ebbs  and 
flows,  although  nearly  always  in  Stanford  territory.  Both 
sides  are  beginning  to  show  the  results  of  the  forceful 
impacts,  and  after  almost  every  down  a  man  is  seen  lying  on 
the  ground  and  time  is  taken  out,  while  the  trainers  run  to 
and  fro  with  bandages,  sponges  and  water-bottles.  Stanford 
replaces  her  left  half  and  California  loses  her  first  man  in  the 
right  guard,  who  is  supported,  limping,  to  the  side  lines, 
cursing  his  luck,  while  his  substitute  joyously  pulls  off  his 
sweater. 


104        For   the  Blue   and  Gold 


And  now,  although  California  has  had  the  ball  in  her 
opponent's  territory  for  almost  two-thirds  of  the  time,  mat- 
ters begin  to  look  serious  for  her.  James  has  just  been 
tried  for  another  field  goal  and  has  missed,  and,  as  a  result, 
the  ball  is  again  in  the  middle  of  the  field,  although  in  Cali- 
fornia's possession.  It  hardly  seems  possible  that  U.  C. 
will  accomplish  in  the  last  fifteen  minutes  of  play  what  she 
has  failed  to  do  in  the  first  twenty.  Stanford  is  fighting 
savagely,  desperately,  as  for  her  very  life.  Her  line  throws 
every  pound  of  its  superior  weight  into  every  play,  with  the 
utmost  abandon.  The  California  rooters  grow  hoarse  from 
their  exhortations,  but  abate  not  one  whit  in  volume.  Is 
their  prize  team,  trained  by  Garrett,  going  to  lose,  and  by 
one  point  ?  No,  it  cannot  be  ;  and  every  voice  swings  into, 
"How  can  they  beat  us,  beat  us ? M  And  then,  with  super- 
human energy,  "Now  is  the  time  to  score  ! " 

But  to  no  avail.  California  loses  on  downs,  and  des- 
perately the  Cardinal  forces  her  back,  yard  by  yard.  Stan- 
ford is  using  her  fresh  half  for  all  he  is  worth,  while  his  par- 
tisans on  the  bleachers  ask  why  he  wasn't  put  in  at  the 
beginning.  No  fancy  plays  are  attempted,  only  solid  line 
bucking.  The  gritty  U.  C.  line,  tortured  in  every  limb  as 
by  the  rack,  holds  the  best  it  knows  how.  Dazed,  light- 
headed, it  braces  itself  to  meet  each  onslaught.  Little  Hos- 
kins  backs  his  line  up  like  a  demon.  The  halves  and  full, 
tensely  strung,  watching  the  ball  as  best  they  may,  chafe  at 
their  inaction.  Once  a  Stanford  half  shows  out  around  the 
end,  but  Percy  pounces  on  him  like  a  cat. 

The  minutes,  filled  with  agony,  slip  away,  as,  back, 
back,  goes  the  ball.  The  Cardinal  rooters  are  in  an  ecstacy 
of  yelling. 


The  Big   Game  105 


On  California's  thirty-yard  line  she  holds.  A  blocked 
kick  and  Burton  is  lying  with  the  ball  hugged  tightly  to  his 
breast,  seven  yards  farther  from  his  goal.  New  life  and 
hope  spring  up  in  the  breasts  of  the  grim  eleven  and  their 
supporters.  They  slap  one  another  on  the  back  with  words 
of  encouragement.  Now  for  a  last  effort ! 

"Line  up!  Line  up!"  automatically  Hoskins  slaps 
the  center's  muscular  back,  runs  his  finger-tips  over  his 
tongue  and  glances  behind  him  to  see  that  the  backs  are  in 
place.  A  criss-cross  and  Hawley  is  around  like  a  flash, 
staggering  and  wriggling.  "Second  down;  one  yard  to 
gain." 

"Hit  'em  again,  boys, — harder  !  " 

Twice  the  linesmen  shift  their  ground  and  the  ball  is 
but  eight  yards  from  the  center.  Now,  on  a  first  down, 
California  has  been  thrown  back.  "  Second  down  ;  six 
yards  to  gain." 

Hawley  admonishes  the  bleachers  to  silence,  so  that  the 
signals  may  be  heard.  "  Line  up,  boys  ;  line  up,  quick  !  " 
As  before,  the  quarter's  clear,  young  voice  floats  across  the 
field: 

"  5  —  27  — 18. "  James  has  dropped  back.  Hoskins 
has  stepped  aside.  "A  kick  !  A  kick  ! ' '  call  the  Stanford 
players.  Their  full  drops  further  back  and  the  halves, 
turning,  race  down  the  field. 

"A  fake!  A  fake!"  But  too  late.  Across  to  the 
quarter  and  back  to  James  flashes  the  ball.  The  latter  is  on 
his  toes.  He  speeds  behind  Hoskins  and  Hawley,  his 
interference.  The  opposing  tackle  is  boxed.  Hawley 
blocks  the  opposing  end,  who  is  sent  sprawling  out  of  it. 
And  James  is  clear  of  the  line.  But  the  two  Stanford  halves 


106         For  the  Blue  and   Gold 


are  running  up.  One  tears  Hoskins  away.  Hawley  clev- 
erly blocks  the  other,  and  the  California  full-back  is  dashing 
down  the  field  —  but  one  player  between  him  and  victory 
for  the  Blue  and  the  Gold  ! 

Tightly  hugging  the  ball,  his  breath  coming  easily,  and 
his  long  legs  working  like  pistons,  Rawson  bends  his  head, 
and,  snorting  like  an  unbridled  stallion,  he  surges  forward. 
Exultation  reigns  supreme  in  his  heart.  "  Now  is  the  time 
to  show  them  ! ' '  But  there,  like  an  evil  fate,  comes  the 
Stanford  full-back,  tensely,  to  meet  him.  The  rest  are  scat- 
tered, pulling  and  hauling,  full  fifteen  yards  behind. 

Nearer  and  nearer  approaches  the  gritty  full-back,  his 
teeth  clenched.  His  the  task  to  win  or  lose  the  game  for 
his  beloved  college.  He  approaches  with  no  attempt  at 
deviation.  Nor  does  James  relax  speed  nor  alter  his  path. 
Freely  he  is  coursing,  low  and  hard,  the  ball  tightly  hugged 
to  his  right  side.  His  left  arm  stiffens  unconsciously  as  he 
calculates  the  other's  approach.  Behind  him,  he  can  hear 
the  thump,  thump,  of  the  pursuers,  but  he  shuts  them  out 
of  his  mind,  leaving  there  but  one  object  —  the  tense  figure 
now  so  near. 

Fifteen  yards  !  Ten  !  Five  !  It  looks  like  a  head-on 
collision.  James  adds  a  spurt.  The  other  dives  forward. 
James'  left  arm,  outstretched,  open-handed  and  rigid,  meets 
him.  A  whirl  and  a  straight-arm.  The  red-stockinged 
figure  goes  down,  clutching  wildly.  Rawson  gathers  him- 
self together,  the  goal-posts,  thirty  yards  away,  now  the 
only  object  in  his  vision.  He  has  lost  his  stride  in  the 
collision,  and  the  ' '  thump,  thump "  of  a  pursuer  who  has 
gained  on  him  sounds  painfully  distinct.  His  right  arm 
hugs  the  ball  more  tightly  as  he  bends  to  his  work.  As  he 


The  Big   Game  107 


becomes  conscious  that  lungs  and  legs  are  not  working  so 
easily,  he  adds  additional  effort  to  his  going.  The  '  *  thump, 
thump"  from  behind  sounds  louder,  nearer,  cannot  be 
ignored.  James  can  hear  his  pursuer's  sharp  panting.  He 
tries  to  focus  his  attention  on  the  whitewashed  lines  and  goal- 
posts in  front.  ' '  Will  those  white  lines  never  pass  behind  ? 
Three  !  Two  !  Oh,  that  last  one  !  It  is  receding  !  "  Sum- 
moning all  his  strength,  James  throws  himself  forward. 
Not  a  second  too  soon.  With  a  desperate  dive,  the  pursuer 
does  likewise.  James  feels  the  clawing  grasp  close  over  his 
ankles  and  worms  himself  forward  on  the  ground.  But  no 
need,  for  at  last  that  final  white  line  has  disappeared. 
Panting  and  distressed,  James  Rawson  lies  half  over  it, 
hugging  the  precious  ball  tightly  to  his  breast.  The  game 
is  won  for  California  ! 

What  words  could  describe  that  frantic,  dancing, 
waving,  shouting  mass  of  blue  and  gold  ?  With  one 
tremendous,  exultant  yell  it  announces  the  result.  Then 
the  rooters  explode  in  a  series  of  roars  and  barks.  With 
tremendous  energy  they  ask,  as  one  man,  "  What's  the 
matter  with  Jim  Rawson?"  And  no  dissenting  voice  is 
heard. 

They  calm  down  for  the  goal-kick.  James  has  pulled 
himself  together.  Al  is  sponging  his  face  and  neck,  and 
offering  him  water.  Carefully  the  lull-back  directs  Burton, 
who  is  lying  full  length  on  the  ground,  the  ball  held  lightly, 
top  and  bottom.  "Punk!"  It  is  over.  California  11, 
Stanford  6.  Pandemonium  again  ! 

What  matters  the  rest?  Stanford  grit,  under  certain 
defeat,  holds  to  the  end.  And,  although,  as  the  final 
whistle  blows,  the  ball  is  once  again  safely  in  her  possession, 


io8         For  the   Blue  and   Gold 


the  Cardinal  contests  the  last  down  just  as  fiercely  as  she 
contested  the  first. 

When  the  final  whistle  does  blow  !  It  seems  as  if  the 
enthusiasm  has  only  begun.  Dejectedly  the  Stanford 
players  seek  their  dressing-room  and  coach. 

In  a  moment  the  field  is  overrun  by  a  jubilant,  surging 
mass  of  California  rooters.  A  rush  is  made  for  the  eleven 
tired,  happy  players.  Lifted  high  aloft  by  hundreds  of  eager 
arms,  with  Garrett  at  their  head,  and  preceded  by  the 
band,  they  are  paraded  around  the  field  to  the  tune  of 
"  Palms  of  Victory."  A  serpentine  is  formed,  zigzagging 
dizzily  after,  shouting,  yelling,  taunting  the  Stanford  ad- 
herents ;  like  mad,  the  joy-intoxicated  Californians  dance 
around. 

The  name  of  Rawson  is  on  every  lip.  But  not  his 
name  alone.  That  of  Hawley,  Hoskins,  Percy,  the  stout- 
hearted men  of  the  line,  accompany  it.  Rawson' s  lot  it 
had  been  to  perform  the  spectacular  part.  But  his  part 
would  have  been  impossible  but  for  the  co-operation  of  his 
ten  team-mates,  every  man  of  whom  has  done  an  equal 
share  in  the  task.  Team  work  !  That  sums  it  up. 

Proud  are  the  freshmen  !  George  has  made  his  way 
straight  for  his  friend.  "Jim!"  He  can  say  no  more. 
All  he  can  say  has  been  included  in  that  one  word.  James, 
his  head-gear  pulled  off,  his  black  hair  hanging  straight  and 
stiff,  hair  and  face  alike  streaked  with  mud,  smiles  joyously 
down  as  he  grips  George's  hand. 

"  Boys,  we  walk  down  the  line  ! "  yells  the  bandmaster, 
jumping  up  and  down.  The  horses  are  unhitched  from  the 
coach.  The  players  pile  in.  Eager  hands  jostle  for  a  hold 
on  the  shaft,  and  the  pulsating,  victorious  Californians  start 


The   Big   Game  109 


for  town.  Inside  the  coach  ?  We  draw  the  curtain.  But 
James  afterwards  sheepishly  admitted  that  it  was  the  first 
time  he  had  ever  seen  grown-up  men  actually  kiss  one 
another.  A  long  night  was  that  Thanksgiving  night.  At 
its  end  James  sank  upon  a  downy  bed,  and  for  the  first  time 
in  two  weeks  he  did  not  play  football  in  his  sleep. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

The   First   Lap   Completed 


The  reopening  of  college  on  the  following  Monday 
found  James  back  in  his  place  at  Mrs.  Saunders'  Select 
Students'  Boarding-house.  It  was  hard  to  escape  from  the 
embarrassing  adulation  that  almost  everbody  was  visiting 
upon  the  football  men.  A  hundred  times  a  day  Rawson 
was  stopped  with,  "Jim,  you  played  a  great  game,"  or, 
' '  How  do  you  feel  after  the  ball,  Jim  ? ' '  Wherever  a  foot- 
ball man  would  appear  he  was  immediately  a  magnet  for  a 
questioning,  discussing  group.  Frat  receptions  and  theater 
parties  were  arranged  for  the  team  and  coach.  Little  Rob- 
bins  felt,  as  his  manner  showed,  that  it  was  almost  sacrilege 
to  permit  Rawson  to  wait  on  him.  Miss  Gray,  meeting 
James  in  the  hall,  held  out  her  hand,  saying  :  '  *  Permit 
me  to  congratulate  you,  Mr.  Rawson,  on  the  fine  game 
that  you  played.  I  felt  quite  proud  of  knowing  you.' ' 

1 '  Thank  you,' '  replied  James,  blushing,  and  he  gripped 
her  hand  harder  than  he  knew.  He  thought  more,  some- 
how, of  this  simple  speech  than  of  all  the  many  others.  Its 
value  was  enhanced  by  the  frank,  square  look  between  the 
eyes,  which  had  accompanied  it. 

Mrs.  Saunders  postponed  her  Thanksgiving  dinner 
until  her  strayed  boarders  had  reassembled.  She  felt, 
inwardly,  a  great  pride  in  having  the  two  most  prominent 
football  men  in  her  company,  and  for  a  brief  moment 


The  First   Lap    Completed 


thought  of  honoring  Rawson  by  having  him  sit  at  the  table. 
"  But  no ;  there's  enough  fuss  being  made  over  him  as  it  is. 
It'll  do  him  good  to  be  kept  down  a  bit."  And  so  James 
"waited"  while  the  others  ate,  but  he  was  not  out  of  the 
conversation. 

' '  What  did  you  think  of  the  game,  Mr.  Davis  ? ' '  asked 
Robbins  (now  surer  of  his  footing),  with  a  rising  inflection. 

"Take  your  queries  to  the  sphinx,  Bobby,"  came  from 
the  other  end  of  the  table.  '  *  Davis  was  digging  for  the 
exes  all  day  Thursday,  weren't  you,  Davis?  " 

"No,"  curtly. 

' '  He  was  in  the  rooters'  section. ' ' 

"I  didn't  see  him  there/ 

"  No,  I  hear  that  they  didn't  have  any  rooters'  hats  at 
the  Coop  that  would  fit  you,  Davis.  Isn't  that  so  ?  " 

"  Your  sense  of  hearing,  Shields,  is  almost  as  acute  as 
your  sense  of  humor — painfully  acute,"  replied  the 
"joshed"  one,  with  asperity. 

"Why  haven't  you  gone  in  for  college  spirit  in  your 
senior  year,  Davis  ? ' '  asked  Hawley.  ' '  All  —  h'm  —  well, 
digs  —  there,  it's  out,  seem  to  wake  up  and  take  an  interest 
in  outside  affairs  during  their  last  year." 

"  I  don't  see  that  I  haven't  got  college  spirit.  College 
spirit  is  the  spirit  in  which  we  come  here  —  the  spirit  of 
work.  I  like  to  see  a  football  game  once  in  a  while,  and 
I'm  glad  enough  that  we  won,  but  football  spirit  isn't  col- 
lege spirit." 

' '  Look  at  Warren  now, ' '  continued  Hawley.  ' '  When 
a  man's  playing  he  doesn't,  as  a  rule,  hear  much  of  the 
rooting,  and  he  doesn't  see  much  when  he  looks  at  the 
bleachers.  But  once,  when  they  were  taking  out  time,  I 


ii2         For   the   Blue   and  Gold 


happened  to  glance  up  at  the  rooters'  section,  and  there  was 
Warren,  waving  his  rooter's  hat,  his  fine  baritone  voice 
lifted  out  from  all  the  rest  in  an  '  Oski-Wow  ! '  " 

1 '  Where  did  he  learn  the  yells  ? ' ' 

"  Practiced  them  before  the  mirror." 

"No,  he  didn't.  He  attended  all  the  rooters'  meet- 
ings." 

"Warren's  cultivating  popularity  so  that  they'll  give 
him  a  good  send-off  when  he  receives  the  medal,"  inter- 
posed Davis,  smiling.  "You  see,  I  haven't  gone  in  for 
that  sort  of  thing.'' 

After  the  Thanksgiving  dinner  Mrs.  Saunders  broke 
all  her  previous  records  by  having  turkey  breast  and  mince 
pie  left  over  for  next  day's  lunch.  Her  ambition  then 
took  wing,  and  she  announced  with  her  utmost  gracious- 
ness  ' '  a  little  gathering  next  Saturday  evening,  at  which 
we  will  be  most  pleased  to  have  all  the  young  ladies  and 
gentlemen — if  you  have  no  other  engagements." 

Again  did  Mrs.  Saunders  do  herself  proud. 

"  Where  did  the  old  lady  corral  all  the  pretty  girls?" 

' '  Dunno  ;  maybe  she  hired  them  for  the  occasion. ' ' 

This  was  the  first  occasion  on  which  James  had  met 
co-eds,  other  than  Mrs.  Saunders',  socially,  and  he  was 
treated  to  much  uncomfortable  lionizing. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Rawson,  you  did  play  beautifully  !  Wasn't 
it  fine  when  you  punted  the  touchdown  !  Dear  me,  wasn't 
I  afraid  that  they  had  hurt  you  when  they  jumped  on  you  ! 
How  brave  you  football  men  are  ! " 

And  almost  as  embarrassing,  the  co-ed  who  was  Blue 
and  Gold,  struck.  ' '  Such  a  funny  thing  happened  in 
class-room  the  other  day.  I  was  so  ashamed.  *  *  * 


The   First   Lap   Completed 


Now,  wasn't  that  dreadful  ?  I'm  so  afraid  lest  the  B.  and  G. 
should  get  hold  of  it.  Mamma  would  be  awfully  angry. 
Oh  !  what  have  I  done  !  I  hope  you're  not  on  the  staff, 
Mr.  Rawson  ?  ' ' 

"  No  ;  I'm  only  a  freshman,"  smiling. 

"  Is  that  so  ?  I  thought  sure  you  were  a  junior.  Did 
you  ever  hear  the  story  of  how  Miss  Brown  got  her  picture 
in  two  successive  B.  and  G.  's  ?  That  was  such  a  piece  of 
conceit.  She  traded  on  the  fact  of  her  name  being  so 
common,  you  know,"  etc.,  etc. 

* '  Miss  Gray,  may  I  have  the  pleasure  of  the  next  dance  ? ' ' 

"  Don't  look  so  serious,  Jim  ;  you're  not  bucking  the 
line,"  whispers 'Hawley,  as  he  whirls  past. 

"  That  was  a  great  feed,  hey,  Bobby  ?  " 

"You  bet,  the  old  lady  did  herself  proud.  Isn't  she 
loosening  up  lately  ?  ' ' 

"  I  wonder  if  she'll  serve  the  rest  of  those  stuffed 
olives  for  dinner  to-morrow  ?  " 

For  a  while  football  remained  the  all-absorbing  topic 
on  the  campus.  The  score  was  chalked  up  on  North  Hall 
bulletin-board  and  painted  on  the  fences.  This  and  that 
possibility  of  the  game  was  discussed,  and  the  might- 
have-beens  thoroughly  canvassed.  On  the  whole,  the 
college  was  satisfied  with  the  outcome,  although  it  had 
expected  a  more  decisive  victory,  the  result  of  an  under- 
valuation of  its  opponents. 

However,  post  football-game  talk  hardly  survived  a 
week  as  the  "sole  topic  of  conversation,"  for  soon  all 
minds  were  turned  to  the  mid-year  examinations.  The 
"digs"  redoubled  their  "digging,"  the  "bums"  sud- 
denly awoke  with  a  jar  to  realize  that  the  term  was  drawing 


For  the  Blue  and   Gold 


to  a  close,  and  that  three  months'  work  had  practically  to 
be  done  (if  at  all)  in  as  many  weeks.  Seats  on  North 
Hall  steps  were  no  longer  at  a  premium  ;  seats  in  the 
Library  frequently  were  ;  ' '  ponies  ' '  and  other  crutches 
were  simply  non-quotable.  No  class  of  students  (save 
perhaps  the  bum)  had  more  hard  work  before  it  than  had 
the  football  players. 

James  plunged  into  his  studying  and  writing  up  of  note- 
books with  a  will,  to  make  up  for  lost  time,  and  night  after 
night  Percy  and  he  were  at  it  until  midnight,  "digging" 
math,  English,  German,  physics,  so  as  to  have  them  down 
"cold."  Some  there  were,  of  Finley's  kind,  who  wasted 
the  labor  that  would  have  carried  them  through  the  whole, 
in  canvassing  and  determining  on  selected  parts  that  the 
instructor  would  be  liable  to  pick  out  for  the  examination 
test.  Finley  was  much  in  demand  for  this  sort  of  guess- 
work by  all  who  took  his  courses,  as  he  was  credited  with 
the  gift  of  intuition. 

"  Say,  Fin,  what  sort  of  an  ex  do  you  think  that  we'll 
get?" 

1  *  I  was  talking  with  a  junior  and  a  senior  who  took 
the  course  in  their  sophomore  year,  and  they  say  that  he 
pays  most  attention  to  the  development  of  the  drama.  Any- 
how, I'm  reading  over  that  chapter  in  Brooke.  They  tell 
me  that  another  favorite  question  of  his  is  about  the  influ- 
ence of  the  French  Revolution  on  the  various  authors. 
I'm  sure  he'll  give  us  that,  because  it's  in  the  last  chapter, 
and  you  remember  the  other  day  he  said  twice  over  to  be 
sure  and  read  that  last  chapter." 

"Sure,  that's  so." 

Nor  was  this  figuring  on  probabilities  indulged  in  only 


The   First   Lap   Completed       115 


by  the  bums  and  shirkers.  Of  course,  it  occupied  nearly 
their  entire  thoughts.  But  good  students,  some  of  whom 
would  receive  first  sections,  spent  much  time  on  this  sort  of 
calculation.  In  fact,  it  was  almost  universal.  Two  such 
'  digs  ' '  as  Warren  and  Davis,  meeting,  would  discuss  what 
sort  of  an  ex  they  would  get  in  a  certain  course,  although 
they  both  "had  it  down  cold." 

In  the  Occident  office  James  listened  to  a  discussion  of 
examinations  in  the  abstract. 

' '  As  long  as  a  fellow  has  done  his  daily  work  during 
the  term  he  has  nothing  to  fear  of  any  ex.  It's  the  fellows 
who  have  been  cutting  all  term  and  have  big  gaps  in  their 
work  that  have  something  to  fear.  They  are  pretty  sure  to 
be  called  upon  to  fill  in  one  of  the  gaps.  It  ought  not  to 
take  a  fellow  longer  to  prepare  for  an  ex  than  it  does  for  an 
ordinary  recitation,  if  he  has  no  gaps  in  his  work." 

"What's  a  man  to  do  if  his  work  is  all  gaps  ?  " 

"  He  can  sit  and  gape  when  the  questions  are  put  on 
the  board." 

"Throw  him  out  !" 

"  Turn  the  hose  on  him  ! ' ' 

"  Give  him  the  dictionary  ! " 

"Arthur,  you  ought  to  write  one  of  those  books 
something  like  '  Every  Man  His  Own  Memorizer ;  or,  the 
Royal  Road  to  First  Sections;'  or  'How  Not  to  Get 
Cinched."' 

At  last  the  anxiously  awaited  examination  schedules 
appeared.  They  were  eagerly  grasped,  and  each  anxious 
student  searched  his  schedule  to  locate  the  dates  and  hours 
of  his  various  trials.  There  was  much  grumbling  when 
any  one  found  his  exes  all  located  in  the  first  few  days,  or 


n  6         For  the    Blue  and   Gold 


bunched  together  at  any  time,  or  if  they  ran  out  too  near 
Christmas  time.  It  is  pretty  hard  to  please  in  this  matter  of 
the  examination  schedule — in  fact,  nobody  tries  to  be 
pleased  with  anything  pertaining  to  final  exes.  They  are  a 
nuisance,  and  that  settles  it.  Oh,  for  the  good  old  days 
when  you  could  get  excused  from  the  final  exes  with  a  one  ! 

"Hullo,  Jim,  how  do  you  make  out?"  queries 
Percy,  as  he  approaches,  schedule  in  hand. 

"  Pretty  well,  considering.  I've  got  five  in  the  first 
eight  days,  and  that  will  let  me  out  a  week  before  Christ- 
mas. How  is  it  with  you?" 

"  Not  so  well.  Here  I've  got  one  in  math  the  first  rat- 
tle out  of  the  box,  and  then  they're  strung  along,  until  on 
the  very  last  day  I've  one  in  chemistry  lab,  and  that's  two 
days  after  the  team's  supposed  to  leave  for  our  Christmas 
game  in  Portland." 

"Well,  you  can  get  that  set  forward,  all  right.  So 
you've  decided  to  go  north  over  the  holidays  on  the  football 
junket?" 

"Yes.  It  won't  cost  me  a  cent,  and  I  find  that  my 
funds  will  hold  out  until  next  May.  So  I  might  as  well  see 
the  country.  Have  you  settled  that  you  won' t  go,  Jim  ?  ' ' 

"Yes,  this  time  it  holds.  Dick  has  said  it's  all  right, 
It'll  be  a  good  thing  to  give  the  sub  a  chance  after  his  hard 
work.  I  must  earn  a  little  money.  If  it  hadn't  been  for 
that  baggage  smashing  that  I  did  Saturdays  for  the  stu- 
dents' express  I  would  have  had  to  borrow  on  my  expecta- 
tions, like  the  fellow  in  *  The  School  for  Scandal.'  As  it  is, 
I've  barely  got  the  price  of  a  car  ride.  I  must  put  in  a 
month's  hard  work  and  get  something  ahead  —  and  there 
are  those  two  Latin  conditions." 


The  First   Lap   Completed 


"  Oh  me,  oh  my,  but  you've  got  troubles,  Jim.  Here 
comes  Cub,  looking  happy.  Got  a  doctor's  certificate, 
George,  that  you're  too  feeble  to  take  the  exes  ?  " 

"No,  but  if  I'd  made  the  schedule  out  myself  it 
couldn't  fit  in  better." 

"  Put  him  in  alcohol  quick  !     He's  the  Dodo. " 

"Say,  George,  while  your  friend  was  making  that 
schedule,  you  might  have  thought  of  us." 

"What's  the  cause  of  your  rejoicing  ?  " 

1 '  Why,  I've  got  one  a  day  at  nine  o'clock,  and  they're 
arranged  by  degrees  of  hardness,  so  that  I'll  have  time  to 
work  up  to  a  climax." 

"  Beautiful  nature  !     Isn't  he  easily  satisfied  ?  " 

"  Say,  Cub,  you  want  to  be  sure  that  you  don't  make 
an  anti  out  of  that  climax  of  yours. ' ' 

' '  You  bet  I  won't.  I'm  going  to  sit  up  ' '  digging ' '  all 
night  for  that  ex,  and  I've  got  a  fellow  who's  going  to  stay 
with  me.  We'll  get  that  down  cold." 

* '  Regular  old-fashioned  wet-towel  party,  hey  ?  ' ' 

When  the  examinations  once  get  under  way  the  ordeal 
is  not  as  hard  as  has  been  anticipated.  In  the  course  of  the 
first  couple  one  gets  hardened,  and  goes  to  the  succeeding 
ones  without  any  perceptible  increase  in  heart  action.  This 
was  the  case  with  James.  He  passed  such  a  satisfactory  test 
in  English  that  he  gained  confidence,  and  so,  even  in  Latin, 
felt  that  he  was  not  going  to  flunk. 

Before  they  knew  it  they  were  all  through,  and  the  erst- 
while echoing  corridors  of  North  Hall  quieted  down.  For 
a  while  would  "Jimmy  Potatoes  "  cease  from  tolling  the 
North  Hall  recitation  bell.  And  the  moving,  pushing  crowd 
in  halls  and  on  stairs,  coming  from  recitation?  closed  and 


u8         For   the   Blue   and  Gold 


going  to  recitations  about  to  open  —  it  would  cease  to  bustle 
—  for  a  while.  If  there  is  one  place  more  than  another  that 
resembles  a  graveyard  at  midnight,  it  is  a  college  hall 
wrapped  in  the  stillness  of  vacation.  Only  in  the  recorder's 
office  is  there  a  semblance  of  life.  There  the  mills  of  the 
gods  are  grinding  small  and  fine — first  sections  to  some, 
cinch  notices  to  others,  which  shall  presently  swoop  down 
upon  quiet  hamlets  and  homes  and  cause  tumult  in  many 
an  anxious,  waiting  breast. 

The  Three  are  gathered  together  in  James'  room  for  a 
final  experience-intention-meeting. 

"Well,  boys,  if  there's  anything  that  moves  along 
faster  than  a  college  term,  I'd  like  to  know  it." 

"Yes,"  responds  James,  "my  days  are  quicker  than  a 
weaver's  shuttle,  but  filled  with  joy.  Job  ought  to  have 
come  to  Berkeley  when  he  lost  his  stuff.  It  seems  but  yes- 
terday since  I  first  set  eyes  on  this  old  place." 

"Yes,  and  you'll  find  yourself  a  jolly  sophomore,  too,  be- 
fore you  know  it.  Seniors  tell  me  that  it  passes  like  a  dream. ' ' 

"Cub,  declare  yourself.  What  are  you  going  to  do 
with  all  this  four  weeks  when  your  friends  are  not  around  to 
take  care  of  you  ? ' ' 

"I've  got  my  job  in  the  Risdon  Iron  Works  cinched. 
I'm  going  to  hand  out  hot  rivets  on  a  pair  of  tongs.  It 
just  came  about  in  the  nick  of  time.  Prof  Thomas  rec- 
ommended me.  If  I  come  over  Sunday  afternoons,  Jim, 
will  you  give  me  a  boost  in  "digging"  now  and  then? " 

"Sure." 

"And  you,  Percy?" 

"  Tomorrow  we  leave  for  the  web-foot  state." 

"And  Jim?" 


The   First   Lap    Completed 


1 '  He's  going  to  don  his  overalls  and  drive  a  grocery 
wagon  during  the  holiday  rush,  and  thereby  line  his  vest- 
pockets  with  shekels.  The  old  lady  wants  me  to  hang 
right  on.  She  uses  me  as  a  sort  of  burglar  alarm.  That 
suits  me,  because  I'll  have  to  dig  up  that  Latin  evenings 
and  Sundays  so  as  to  pass  the  exes  for  the  disabled  when 
college  opens.  I'm  going  to  get  a  little  coaching." 

1 '  From  whom  ?  " 

"H'm —  well — Miss  Gray  isn't  going  to  leave,  and 
she  promised  to  help  me  out  a  bit." 

"She's  a  sort  of  private  tutor  to  you,  isn't  she,  Jim? 
I  hope  you  mind  her  real  well,  and  stick  to  business. ' ' 

"  Don't  fear.  She's  business,  all  right.  She's  got  the 
greatest  head  on  her  of  any  girl  I've  ever  seen." 

"But  I  don't  see,"  interposes  George,  "how  she  suc- 
ceeds so  in  hiding  her  light  under  a  bushel.  You  say  that 
she's  in  line  for  the  medal,  but  you  never  hear  her  men- 
tioned." 

"Well,  she  isn't  wearing  her  report  cards  on  her 
sleeve  — and  then,  you  know  that  in  every  race  you  have  to 
look  out  for  a  dark  horse." 

"But  she's  gray." 

"Throw  him  out!" 

"Well,  boys,  here  is  where  we  get  off."  They  had 
walked  up  to  Stiles  Hall.  "So  long,  until  next  term,  and 
may  the  Lord  smile  on  us  all,"  and  James  chants  in  a 
low,  sepulchral  voice  : ' 

"  When  shall  we  three  meet  again  ? 
In  thunder,  lightning  or  in  rain?" 

He  stands  a  minute,  looking  over  toward  the  campus 


120 


For  the  Blue  and   Gold 


where,  through  the  border  of  trees,  the  Gym  and  South  and 
North  Hall  loom  up  faintly  in  the  glimmer  of  a  late  moon. 

"So  long,  old  campus."  The  first  lap  is  completed, 
and  he  feels  himself  running  strongly,  with  the  race  well  in 
hand. 


CHAPTER   IX 

The   Clans  Regather  and  Do   Some 
Politics 


'  *  Why,  hullo,  Percy,  where  did  you  drop  from  ?  — 
Glad  to  see  you  back. " 

"Hullo,  Jim,  old  man,  how's  the  world  been  using 
you?  Here  we  are  again.  'Tis  good  for  the  eyes,  this  old 
campus  and  your  old  mug.  How's  Cub?  How'd  the 
recorder  treat  you  ?  How  did  you  make  out  in  the  grocery 
biz?  How  did  you  make  out  in  the  Latin  ex?  How 
many  hours  are  you  going  to  take  ? ' ' 

"I'll  take  a  day  off  to  answer  your  questions.  George 
is  O.  K.  I've  seen  him  every  Sunday.  He'll  be  back 
tomorrow  for  registration.  All  the  rest  is  O.  K.,  too, 
although  Latin  is  yet  in  the  balance.  The  recorder  gave 
me  reports  on  three  half-year  courses  —  two  ones  and  a  two. 
How  did  you  fare  ?  " 

"  Ones,  hey  ?  none  in  mine.  I  got  a  straight  two,  and 
I'm  satisfied.  Ones  !  Aren't  we  a  dig  !  Let's  stroll  up 
the  line." 

"Yes,  it's  all  here.  No  more  gridiron,  though.  Any 
changes? " 

"  Feel  as  if  you'd  been  away  a  year,  hey  ?  Nothing  to 
speak  of.  Some  new  lockers,  and  odds  and  ends.  By  the  way 
—  North  Hall  is  still  there.  The  Coop's  got  a  bigger  safe.' ' 


For  the   Blue  and  Gold 


Once  more  the  campus  was  springing  into  life.  As 
they  walked  they  met  friends  and  classmates,  with  many  a 
hearty  hullo  and  grip  of  the  hand.  The  invariable  first 
question  was,  how  did  the  recorder  treat  you  ?  or  what  did 
you  get  in  such  and  such  a  course?  Warren  was  causing 
much  wear  and  tear  on  his  wallet  by  flashing  his  report  card 
in  and  out  to  exhibit  a  "straight  one." 

"Ah  there,  Fin,  did  you  get  a  report  in  Dutch?" 

"That  I  did." 

"A  three?" 

"Sure  enough,  and  there  was  another  in  English  to 
keep  it  company.  Guess  I'll  have  to  take  a  brace  this 
term." 

"  Want  to  renew  your  subscription  to  the  California^ 
Fin?  I'm  taking  orders." 

"Well,  I  don't  know.  I  think  of  swearing  off.  It 
takes  time  from  study.  Say,  Charlie,  that  was  a  funny  josh 
that  Dutch  sprung  one  morning.  We  have  him  at 
8:30,  and  as  we  just  get  our  Calif ornians,  there's  lots 
of  ads  to  read.  There  are  more  Californians  than 
"Schillers"  around  the  room.  One  day  we  had  a  punk 
recitation.  Everybody  was  reading  about  an  A.  S.  U.  C. 
meeting.  Soon  Dutch  up  and  says,  '  I  have  an  idea.  I 
will  contract  with  the  editor  of  the  Californian  to  have  our 
assignment  of  ninety  lines  printed  in  the  paper  each  day. 
Then  I  will  be  able  to  get  a  decent  recitation. '  Funny  guy, 
isn't  he?  Come  to  think  of  it,  Charlie,  you  might  as  well 
put  my  name  down.  So  long." 

North  Hall  steps  were  already  well  occupied  withbaskers 
in  the  ' '  soul-enlarging  ' '  sun  of  a  California  mid-winter. 
There  were  plenty  of  notices  on  the  bulletin-board  to  read, 


'  The   Clans   Regather  123 


and  the  "  cinch  rack  "  was  full.  Percy  and  James  made 
the  rounds,  went  over  to  the  recorder's  office,  and  James 
found  that  he  was  safely  through  the  preparatory  Latin. 
Percy,  impersonating  George,  was  informed  that  the  latter, 
likewise,  had  passed  in  English  14. 

11  Won' the  be  glad?" 

"Well,  Jim,  I'll  have  to  mosey  along  now,  and  get  our 
chewing  club  forces  into  line  again.  I  don't  suppose 
you're  ready  to  join  us  yet?  We'll  be  there  when  you 
are." 

"  No,  not  yet.  But  next  year  I  will,  all  right.  Won't 
we  have  some  big  times  then  ?  By  the  way,  Perce,  Samp- 
son has  made  me  one  of  his  assistants  on  the  business  staff 
of  the  Occident,  and  I'm  going  around  rustling  up  subscrip- 
tions and  ads — twenty  per  cent,  rake-off.'* 

"  Good  enough,  Jim  ! ' 

James  was  just  prying  his  knife  into  the  oyster's  shell. 
There  are  many  little  ways  at  California,  as  at  every  college, 
by  which  a  student  can  add  to  his  income  —  some  connected 
with  the  two  papers  and  the  magazine,  reporting  for  the 
daily  papers,  coaching,  a  few  student-offices,  agencies  of 
one  kind  or  another,  jobs  down  town.  But  with  all  these, 
there  are  not  many  openings  to  the  freshman.  It  usually 
takes  a  year  to  establish  an  individuality.  In  his  sophomore 
year,  things  begin  to  be  accessible  to  the  student  who  is 
going  to  make  his  presence  felt  in  college.  So  James  was 
doing  pretty  well.  Of  course  football  had  helped  him,  and 
would  have  helped  him  in  a  great  many  ways  if  he  had 
cared  to  take  advantage  of  its  opportunities.  But  he  had 
principles  about  trading  on  his  athletic  reputation. 

The  money  that  he  had   made  during  vacation  had 


124        For  the  Blue   and  Gold 


enabled  him  to  remember  his  folks  with  several  little  Christ- 
mas gifts,  and  there  was  an  astonished  and  delighted 
family  down  in  Riverside.  None  more  so  than  younger 
brother  Tom,  as  he  kicked  a  real  "varsity"  football 
along  the  road  and  told  his  friends  tales  of  his  big  brother's 
prowess. 

"  Looks  as  if  Jim  was  making  out  O.  K.  up  in  college, 
mother,  doesn't  it,  if  he  has  money  to  spend  on  Christmas 
presents?  " 

"You  ought  to  know  Jim,"  returns  the  proud  mother. 

"  If  this  isn't  Cub  Thornton,  with  the  grime  of  honest 
toil  upon  his  hands !  Howdy,  George.  By  the  way,  you 
passed  in  English  14." 

"  Holy  smoke,  you  don't  mean  it !  How  did  you  find 
out?" 

"Recorder  told  me." 

"Shake,  fellows — Jim,  Percy,  shake!  Now  my 
troubles  are  all  over." 

< '  Well,  let's  go  up  and  register. " 

All  was  hustle  and  hurry  in  North  Hall.  Mid-year 
registration  is  not  so  elaborate  a  process  as  is  that  in  August, 
for  some  of  the  courses  continue  during  the  whole  year,  and 
this  limits  the  amount  of  thinking  and  juggling  that  has  to 
be  gone  through  with  in  January.  But  the  instructors  are 
all  keeping  open  house  in  their  little  offices,  granting 
and  denying,  and  staving  off  bluffs.  And  there  is  much 
scurrying  to  and  fro.  Recitations  begin  that  afternoon  ; 
loose  threads  are  gathered  up  again,  and  things  soon  settle 
down  to  business.  Then,  for  a  while,  the  only  question 
heard  is,  ' '  How  many  hours  are  you  taking  ? ' ' 


v'l 


The   Clans   Regather  125 


"  Come  up  to  my  room  tonight,  boys,  and  we'll  discuss 
a  box  of  Riverside  navels,"  invites  Rawson. 

"  Don't  mention  it !     We'll  be  there. ' ' 

Besides  Percy  and  George,  James  had  also  invited  little 
Robbins  and  Herbert  Edwards,  two  of  Mrs.  Saunders' 
boarders,  freshmen,  who  had  had  him  out  to  dinner  New 
Year's  day.  Robbins  looked  up  to  James  (both  figuratively 
and  literally)  as  to  a  god.  He  followed  the  tall  fellow 
around  whenever  he  could,  like  a  spaniel.  His  shyness  had 
worn  offunder  James'  treatment  of  him  as  a  man  and  an  equal. 
He  now  could  say,  "  Rawson,  what  do  you  think  of  this  ?  " 
or,  "Jim,  what  do  you  make  out  of  this?"  in  the  most  mat- 
ter-of-fact way,  although  he  felt  a  fine  little  thrill  each  time 
that  he  did  it. 

During  a  lull  in  the  consumption  of  oranges,  Robbins 
managed  to  make  himself  heard.  "  Calm  down  a  bit, 
fellows,  I  want  to  say  something  for  the  good  of  the  order." 

"Fire  ahead,  Bobby." 

Robbins,  slightly  embarrassed  at  their  scrutiny,  began  : 
'  *  We  are  soon  going  to  elect  class  officers  for  the  second 
term — the  Bourdon  term.  Well,  I  have  it  on  good 
authority  that  a  certain  push  whom  nobody  but  itself  likes 
is  laying  wires  to  get  control  of  the  whole  works.  I've 
seen  their  fine  hand  already  myself.  It  won't  be  for 
the  good  of  the  class  to  put  them  in  power.  What 
we  want  for  class  president  is  a  man  who  doesn't  hobnob 
with  any  special  push,  frat  or  otherwise,  and  we  want  a  man 
who  is  popular  with  the  main  body  of  the  class  —  a  fellow 
who  isn't  kiddish  either  —  " 

"Well  said,  Bobby,  who's  'It?'"  exclaimed  George 
and  Edwards. 


126         For  the   Blue  and  Gold 


"I  have  in  my  mind,"  continued  Robbins,  throwing 
out  his  chest,  "a  man  not  a  hundred  miles  from  here,  who 
suits  the  office  to  a  T,  and  I  ask  permission  to  present  the 
name  of  Mr.  James  Rawson. ' ' 

"Wow!  Good  boy,  Bobby!  that's  the  thing i" 
shout  Percy,  George  and  Edwards  in  unison.  James  gives 
evidence  of  embarrassment.  "  Jim,  you  accept !  " 

"  But  look  here,  fellows,  I'm  not  after  that  sort  of 
thing.  I  haven't  the  time,  and  I  don't  know  the  first  thing 
about  presiding,  even  if  they  should  elect  me,  which  they 
won't." 

"  We'll  attend  to  the  electing  all  right.  You  invest 
in  a  copy  of  'Robert's  Rules'  and  you'll  soon  be  on  to 
your  job." 

' '  Now,  see  here,  Rawson,  you're  the  oldest  and  most 
settled-down  fellow  in  the  class.  I'm  looking  out  for  our 
own  good,  not  yours.  Would  you  rather  have  a  fellow  like 
Chet  Holland  get  it?" 

1 '  Not  on  your  life  ! ' '  shout  the  others. 

"Well,  it's  settled  then,"  announces  George.  "For 
president,  Jim  Rawson,  of  Riverside,"  and  James,  seeing 
no  good  reason  for  refusing,  subsides. 

"  We'll  cook  this  thing  all  up,"  asserts  Robbins,  with 
conviction,  and  various  imprecations  being  heard  to  issue 
from  surrounding  rooms  to  "  quit  that  noise,  and  let  a 
fellow  study,"  the  company  once  more  falls  silently  upon 
the  box  of  oranges. 

"Have  you  heard  the  very  latest  from  the  political 
field,  boys  ?  ' '  queries  Chester  Holland  to  the  Kappa  Chis, 
lounging  about  their  cozy  bumming  room.  "  Here's  that 
kid,  Robbins,  and  Cub  Thornton  a-booming  Rawson  for 


The   Clans   Regather  127 


class  prex.  That's  a  representative  brace  for  you  — 
ha  !  ha  !  " 

"  He'll  make  a  pretty  strong  run  on  his  football  record, 
don't  you  think?" 

"His  football  record!  That's  a  good  one!  —  or,  I 
should  say,  a  bad  one.  Didn't  he  have  to  be  literally 
kicked  into  the  game?  Why,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  my 
brother—"  . 

4  *  Oh,  quit  that,  Holland ;  don't  you  know  when  an 
issue's  dead?"  sharply  rebukes  Windom,  a  senior,  from 
the  lounge. 

"Just  the  same,  that  hoosier  won't  be  prex  if  the 
Kappa  Chis  know  it."  Holland  did  not  notice  that  his 
assertion  met  with  no  affirmation  from  the  other  Kappa 
Chis.  He  had  set  his  mind  on  it,  and  was  simply  crazy  to 
be  class  president  and  preside  at  the  Bourdon.  Nothing 
less  would  suit  him,  nor  could  he  wait  for  the  succeeding 
years.  In  fact,  upon  entering  college,  he»had  had  dreams, 
inspired  by  his  elder  brother,  of  holding  most  of  the 
prominent  offices  in  the  gift  of  class  and  of  college.  He 
thought  that  it  was  due  to  his  social  position  that  he  pick 
out  the  very  best  office  in  the  gift  of  the  class.  It  had 
taken  a  deal  of  insinuating  to  make  known  his  desires  to 
some  of  his  followers,  but  now  things  were  all  arranged  for  his 
nomination  and  his  followers  were  already  going  around  making 
"trades"  for  support  with  candidates  for  other  officers. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do,  Chet.  Let's  nominate 
another  member  of  the  sweater  brigade  to  pull  some  of  the 
co-ed  muscle  worshipers  away  from  Rawson.  That's  the 
largest  element  that  we  have  to  fear.  Get  a  fellow  with 
a  good  shape  and  the  co-ed  vote  will  be  split  up." 


128         For  the  Blue  and   Gold 


"  But  we  expect  to  poll  a  strong  co-ed  vote  ourselves. 
My  cousin  is  going  to  get  the  Sigma  Tau  Alphas  in  line." 

"That's  all  right.  You'll  get  the  ones  that  can  be 
reached  from  the  sororities,  and  the  others  our  dummy 
nominee  can  take.  There  won't  be  much  of  anything  left 
for  Rawson.  Remember,  almost  half  of  the  class  is  co-eds, 
and  it's  a  vote  that  can  be  worked  like  putty. "  It  sounded 
well,  and  was  agreed  upon. 

The  proudest  moment  of  little  Robbins'  life  came  when 
he  stood  up  before  all  his  classmates  to  nominate  "our 
friend,  James  Rawson,"  which  nomination  was  eagerly  sec- 
onded from  several  quarters.  Holland's  program  went 
through  as  agreed.  Imagine  the  surprise  of  Ralph  Evans, 
champion  hammer  thrower,  when  he  was  placed  in  nomina- 
tion for  class  president  by  Roland  Chinn,  who  belonged  to 
a  frat  that  had  unsuccessfully  '  *  rushed ' '  Evans  a  few 
months  before,  and  was  supposed  to  be  a  little  sore  on  the 
one  that  had  secured  him.  Evans*  brain  did  not  move  as 
quickly  as  his  muscles  and  he  had  not  succeeded  in  sizing 
the  situation  up,  whereby  so  unexpected  an  honor  had  come 
to  him  from  so  unexpected  a  source,  before  the  nominations 
were  declared  closed,  and  he  found  himself  shaking  hands 
with  the  smooth  Mr.  Chinn. 

"  See  here,  Chinny,  what  sort  of  a  game  is  this?"  he 
expostulated. 

1  *  No  game  at  all,  old  man.  Remember  this  is  the  Bour- 
don presidency,  and  we  need  a 'man  representative  in  every 
way  for  the  job  —  a  fellow  whose  social  position  and  per- 
sonal appearance  will  do  us  proud.  I  didn'  t  speak  to  you 
before,  because  I  believe  in  the  office  coming  to  the  man. 
But  you  won't  lack  for  support.  Look,  here  is  Miss  Hollis 


The   Clans   Regather  129 


already  come  to  pledge  allegiance.  How  do  you  fancy  our 
next  president,  Miss  Hollis  ?  ' ' 

"  Splendid,  splendid,  Mr.  Evans,  and  such  a  surprise  ! 
But  you  won't  find  any  lack  of  supporters.  Permit  me  to 
congratulate  you." 

Evans  shook  hands  in  a  perfunctory  way.  "But,  see 
here,  won't  you?  I  don't  know  anything  about  being 
prex." 

"You'll  learn,"  replies  Chinn,  with  conviction.  "  You 
didn't  always  know  how  to  throw  the  hammer  or  put  the 
shot,  did  you  ? ' ' 

"N —  no,"  assented  Evans.  He  didn't  like  argu- 
ments. "But  I  won't  make  a  fight.  Take  it  out  of  my 
hands,  Chinny." 

"We'll  fix  that  up,  all  right,"  calls  Chinn,  as  with  a 
wave  of  his  hand  he  turns  aside. 

Evans  finds  other  well-wishers,  and  stands  embarrassed, 
exchanging  hand  shakes.  He  presents  a  fine  figure  in  his 
well-tailored  gray  suit,  close-cropped  hair  and  tall  collar, 
"  well-groomed  " — the  athlete  personified.  Perhaps  there 
is  a  little  too  much  emphasis  in  neck  and  shoulders.  He 
well  looks,  though,  as  if  he  would  confirm  the  expectations 
of  Holland's  supporters  by  making  a  run  on  his  shape. 
The  question  is,  ' '  Will  his  run  be  in  a  direction  parallel  to 
Holland's  or  to  Rawson's  ?  " 

James  had  not  attended  the  meeting.  When  Robbins 
and  George  came  to  tell  him  what  had  happened,  he,  too, 
was  surprised.  "  Don't  you  think  that  three  of  us  are  too 
many  ?  ' ' 

"Yes,  two  too  many.  But  by  the  time  the  votes  are 
counted  there  will  be  only  one  left." 


130         For  the  Blue  and   Gold 


"But  I  don't  like  the  idea,  boys,  of  making  such  a 
fight  out  of  this.  It'll  be  bad  for  the  class.  Evans  is  a 
good  fellow.  Let  him  fight  it  out  with  Holland.  He  ought 
to  beat  him.  Everybody  likes  Ev." 

4 'Yes,  but  they  don't  admire  the  qualities  in  the 
'  baby '  that  they  want  in  a  Bourdon  prex.  If  you  drop 
out,  Holland  will  pull  wires  enough  to  beat  him."  This 
from  George. 

"  That's  so,"  acquiesces  Robbins,  "and I've  got  a  sort 
of  sneaking  notion  that  that's  what  Ev  is  up  there  for  —  to 
serve  as  stalking-horse  for  Holland.  Why,  look  here  ;  who 
nominated  him?  Roland  Chinn.  And  since  when  isn't 
Chinn  friends  with  Holland?  Why,  look  at  the  way  Ev 
turned  the  Beta  Sigmas  down  last  term  —  and  Chinn  in  par- 
ticular, when  they  were  rushing  him.  Chinn  was  with  him 
day  and  night.  He  never  let  up — worked  like  a  beaver. 
Then  one  night  he  had  him  up  in  the  house,  in  the  parlor, 
holding  him  down,  while  the  others  voted  on  him  in  a  back 
room.  Soon  the  'phone  rang,  and  the  call  was  for  Evans. 
He  comes  back  with  his  hat.  '  Excuse  me,  I'll  have  to  go 
down  to  the  Phis.  I'm  one  of  them,  you  know.'  He 
never  came  back.  Yes,  it's  fishy,  all  right,"  and  Robbins 
shakes  his  head  wisely. " 

"  Where'  d  you  get  that,  Bobby  ?  " 
"Oh,  a  fellow  told  me— it's  straight,  all  right." 
"I  won't  play  into   Holland's  hands,    that's   sure," 
announces  James.     And  so  the  fight  is  on  —  politics  on  a 
small  scale,  removed  from  the  real  article  only  in  degree,  not 
in  kind.     For  a  few  days  every  freshman  is  either  button- 
holing or  being  buttonholed.     Chinn  even  makes  up  to  the 
Y.  W,  C.  A.  through  its  secretary  (in  whose  interests  it  is 


The   Clans  Regather  131 


needless  to  say),  but  does  not  get  much  encouragement. 
One  of  their  number  had  taken  that  entrance  ex  with 
Holland  and  Rawson  and  she  tells  her  friends  about  it. 

"Does  Mr.  Rawson  belong  to  the  Y.  M.  C.  A?"  is 
asked. 

"  Well,  I  can't  say.  But  I  saw  him  with  one  of  those 
little  blue  books  in  his  hand." 

Holland  attempted  to  engage  the  services  of  the  Call- 
fornian  to  further  his  ambition,  but  to  no  avail.  The  edi- 
torship had  changed  hands.  His  methods  furnished  the 
text  for  a  notice  in  the  Occident^  but  not  of  the  kind  that  he 
wanted.  It  began,  "What  are  we  coming  to?"  and  went 
on  to  say  that  the  "  raw  politics  that  is  being  done  by  cer- 
tain freshmen  does  not  speak  well  for  the  refining  influences 
of  the  higher  education,"  etc.,  etc. 

As  for  big,  good-natured  Evans,  he  was  just  letting 
things  take  their  own  course.  The  presidency  didn't  appeal 
much  to  his  imagination,  and  he  took  no  active  steps  to 
secure  the  office.  His  friends  (and  some  supposed  ones) 
kept  egging  him  on,  however,  so  that  he  did  not  withdraw, 
although  he  knew  James  well  and  would  not  have  been  dis- 
pleased to  see  him  president.  His  frat  brothers  were  mak- 
ing an  active  canvass  in  his  behalf,  but  Mr.  Chinn  was  not 
much  in  evidence.  The  day  after  the  nominations  Evans 
had  met  him.  "  Now,  I  look  to  you,  Chinny,  to  do  what 
is  necessary.  I'm  no  good  for  this  sort  of  thing." 

"  H'm  —  well,  of  course,  I'll  do  everything  that  I  can, 
Ralph,  to  help  you,  but  you  know  that  Holland  also  has 
claims  on  my  support.  I'll  do  the  right  thing,  never  fear. 
By  the  way,  Ev,  a  fellow,  knowing  that  I'm  interested  in 
your  fight  came  to  me — no,  I  won't  mention  names,  but  he 


132         For  the   Blue  and  Gold 


is  on  the  team  —  and  said  that  he  thought  that  a  proposition 
could  be  worked  up,  under  certain  circumstances,  to  put 
you  up  for  track  captain  next  year.  What  do  you  think  ?  ' ' 

"  If  the  track  boys  want  me,  they'll  elect  me." 

Little  Robbins  was  working  like  a  beaver,  but  in  a  way 
that  called  for  nothing  but  favorable  comment.  He  had  a 
busy,  earnest  manner  about  him  that  was  taking.  He 
would  stand  a  classmate  up  in  a  corner  and  attempt  to  con- 
vince him  of  James'  superiority  by  sheer  force  of  logic, — 
marking  off  his  points  on  his  fingers.  Warren,  passing, 
voiced  his  approval.  ( '  That  kid  is  all  right.  He  talks  as 
if  he'd  had  formal  logic."  The  taking  of  that  course 
was  the  open  sesame  to  Warren's  regard. 

On  every  occasion  Robbins  would  intercept  James  to 
report  progress.  The  latter  felt  the  humor  of  the  situation, 
that  is,  the  physical  incongruity  of  it.  Little  Robbins,  who 
came  up  to  the  top  button  of  Rawson's  vest,  was  making 
the  latter' s  fight,  and  walking  by  his  side,  his  head  thrown 
back,  talking  earnestly  into  the  air.  This  appealed  to 
James,  and  he  took  the  situation  so  good-naturedly  as  to 
please  those  who  observed,  and  this  won  him  some  votes. 
Otherwise  he  made  no  show  of  an  active  canvass. 

"I  do  believe,"  announced  George  (who  was  no  less 
active  in  James*  behalf  than  was  Robbins)  that  that  guy, 
Holland,  has  traded  off  his  soul  to  be  class  prex.  At  every 
turn  I  run  up  against  fellows  who  are  going  to  be  this  or 
that  if  Holland  gets  it.  All  the  Bourdon  speakerships  have 
been  promised — at  least  twice  over.  Won't  there  be  a 
picnic  if  he  should  get  elected  and  it  comes  to  delivering 
the  goods!" 

The  canvass  was  short.     That  is  one  good  feature  about 


The   Clans   Regather  133 


college  elections.  Nominations  had  been  made  on  Friday, 
and  now  (Tuesday  morning),  the  voting  booths  were  in 
place  down  in  the  front  of  North  Hall  basement.  The 
ballot-box  stood  on  a  table,  and  the  judges,  with  a  catalogue 
of  students  in  place  of  a  great  register,  were  presiding  over 
the  voting.  Workers  and  friends  of  each  candidate  were 
hovering  about  the  polls,  looking  out  for  this  or  that 
interest,  and  doing  what  missionary  work  was  possible  at 
the  last  moment.  Recitation  "cutting"  was  the  order  of 
the  day  with  the  political  "push."  Co-eds  were  no  less 
interested  in  the  election  than  were  the  men  students. 
The  practical  workings  of  woman  suffrage  are  observable 
at  a  co-educational  college  election.  Happy  and  im- 
portant the  freshman  that  day  who  had  a  large  co-ed 
bowing  acquaintance.  Such  a  one  was  Roland  Chinn, 
suave  and  smiling,  as  he  stood  at  a  point  of  vantage 
where  he  could  round-up  the  voting  co-ed.  It  didn't  take 
a  blind  man  not  to  observe  in  whose  interests  Chinn  was 
working. 

As  James  approached  to  cast  his  vote  for  the  minor 
offices,  during  a  pause  between  recitations  (he  was  losing 
none  on  that  day  more  than  on  any  other),  he  observed 
Chinn,  his  hat  describing  semi-circles  from  head  to  knee, 
advance  to  offer  the  ' '  glad  hand ' '  to  the  two  co-ed  fresh- 
men who  boarded  at  Mrs.  Saunders' .  Unknown  to  James, 
they  had  been  enlisted  in  his  service  by  Robbins,  and  had 
done  stout  work  for  him  among  their  friends. 

' '  Good  morning,  Miss  Wilson,  morning  Miss  Free- 
land  ;  I  suppose  you  are  on  the  right  side  for  class  prex  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  guess  we  are,  aren't  we  Julia  ?"  and  they 
smiled  knowingly  at  each  other. 


134         For  the  Blue  and   Gold 


' '  And  that  is,  if  I  may  be  bold  to  supply  the  words, 
Mr.  Holland's." 

' '  Not  exactly.  We  are  for  Mr.  Rawson.  We  all  stop 
at  the  same  house,  you  know. ' ' 

James  heard  this  part  as  he  hurried  past,  a  little  red  on 
the  ears,  also  a  snatch  of  the  following  : 

"Now,  ladies,  permit  me  to  tell  you  that  you're  in  the 
wrong  car.  Get  into  Mr.  Holland's !  His  will  take  a 
flying  switch  into  the  presidency,"  etc.,  etc. 

For  the  most  part,  the  votes  came  dribbling  in,  but 
once  and  a  while,  at  the  close  of  a  recitation,  a  small  dele- 
gation of  partisans,  preceded  by  a  leader,  would  be  mar- 
shaled up  to  the  polls.  This  is  a  great  day  for  little 
Robbins.  The  first  batch  that  he  leads  up  is  composed  of 
the  freshmen  members  of  the  Whist  Club,  of  which  Rob- 
bins,  too,  is  a  member.  They  advance  from  the  basement, 
single  file,  in  lock-step,  keeping  mark  with  "We  are  for 
Jim  Rawson,  son,  son,  son."  The  others'  adherents  guy 
them,  but  they  keep  on.  Pretty  soon  George  comes  along 
with  some  of  the  freshmen  members  of  the  "mining  push." 
There  is  no  question  as  to  which  way  these  will  vote. 

Holland  cuts  his  recitations  en  bloc  and  hovers  about 
the  polling  place  keeping  tab.  He  is  conscious  that  it  is  bad 
form,  and  so  does  not  come  up  too  close,  except  in  occa- 
sional, apparently  casual  strolls.  Every  once  and  a  while 
he  retires  around  the  corner  for  a  follower's  report  on  the 
situation.  "Those  Sigma  Tau  Alpha  co-eds  are  doing 
great  work.  Almost  every  one  has  been  up  with  a  friend 
or  two.  I  wonder  where  those  Y.  W.  C.  A.  girls  are 
keeping  themselves?  Not  a  single  one  has  shown  up  yet.' ' 

Toward  the  close  of  the  polls,  Evans,  who  has  been 


The   Clans   Regather  135 


practicing  a  new  whirl  with  the  hammer  all  morning,  recalls 
that  it  is  election  day,  and  that  he  is  up  for  president. 
"Guess  I'll  go  up  and  vote  and  see  what's  going  on."  On 
the  way  up  the  campus  he  meets  George. 

' '  Hullo,  Cub,  how  goes  the  election  ?  ' ' 

"Jim  Rawson's  got  it  in  a  walk,  saving  your  presence. 
By  the  way,  Ev,  who  is  supposed  to  be  making  your 
fight?" 

"Well,  so  far  as  a  fight  has  been  made,  I  suppose  the 
Phis  have  been  doing  their  part.  Chinn's  been  interested, 
too;  you  know  he  put  me  up.  But  I  haven't  been  taking 
much  interest  in  the  thing.  I'm  sort  of  sorry  now  that  I 
didn't  withdraw.  I  suppose  a  fellow  ought  not  to  go  into  a 
thing  without  trying  to  win." 

'  *  No.  And  if  you  think  Chinny  has  been  your  friend 
in  this  you're  badly  mistaken.  He's  been  doing  all  he 
could  for  Holland  on  the  Q.  T.  There's  been  a  report 
around  this  morning  that  you  were  out  of  it,  whatever 
that  may  mean.  It's  hard  to  tell  who  got  it  up.  On  the 
strength  of  it,  he's  up  there  now  working  tooth  and  nail  for 
Holland." 

"I  didn't  withdraw.  Has  he  been  giving  me  the 
double  cross  !  "  ejaculated  Evans.  "Why,  he  nominated 
me!" 

1 '  Yes,  I  guess  he's  been  playing  you  for  a  sucker,  all 
right." 

"I'll  crack  his  jaw  !  "  The  significance  of  past  events 
was  beginning  to  dawn  on  Evans  slowly.  He  turned  red 
about  the  neck,  and  placed  his  finger  up  to  loosen  his  collar. 
A  slow-gathering  wrath  is  a  stormy  one.  "We'll  go  up 
and  see  about  this."  Approaching  the  polling  place,  a 


136         For  the   Blue  and  Gold 


group  of  students  was  observed  gathered  about  a  speaker. 
The  speaker  was  Roland  Chinn. 

"Now,  there's  every  reason,  fellows,  why  we  should 
elect  Chet  Holland.  He  comes  from  a  good  family.  He 
has  dough  enough  to  do  things  up  brown,  and  he's  ready  to 
do  it.  It's  a  pipe  that  his  brother  will  be  major  of  the  battal- 
ion. He's  in  with  the  proper  push."  Raising  his  voice  to 
imitate  a  showman's  :  "Step  up  now,  gentlemen,  ard  cast 
your  vote  for  the  right  man." 

"  And  who  may  that  be,  Chinny  ? "  Evans  breaks 
through,  his  mien  full  of  menace,  his  face  becoming  each 
moment  more  red. 

"  Hullo,  Ev,  where'd  you  drop  from?  " 

"  I  dropped  from  being  a  sucker,  and  I  want  to  know 
what  sort  of  a  dummy  you  thought  you  were  nominating 
for  president?  What  was  your  low-down  game,  anyway?  " 

"  Oh,  come  along,  Ev,  don't  get  hot.  I  had  it 
straight  this  morning  that  you  were  out  of  it,  and  I'd  rather 
see  Chet  in  than  Rawson."  Then,  trying  to  pass  it  off 
with  an  audacious  joke :  "Well,  step  up,  anyhow,  and 
vote  for  yourself,  and  don't  say  that  I  didn't  get  you  one 
vote." 

Evans  turned  livid.  The  others  fell  away  as  he  made  a 
grab  for  Chinn,  grasping  him  tightly  by  the  coat-collar  and 
shaking  him  roughly.  "  You  little  shrimp  !  I'll  teach  you 
to  make  a  fool  out  of  me."  Violent  shaking.  "Now, 
you  get  out  of  this  with  your  snide  tricks,  or  I'll  wipe  the 
ground  with  you,"  and  he  pushed  the  limp  Chinn,  stum- 
bling, twenty  feet  away.  The  politician  recovered  himself, 
and,  moving  further  off  with  each  word  said,  with  a  sickly 
smile: 


The   Clans  Reg  at  her  137 


"You  take  these  things  too  seriously,  Ev,  I'll  give 
you  a  chance  to  cool  off. ' ' 

' '  Now,  see  here,  fellows.  You  see  what  sort  of  work 
that  scamp  and  his  candidate  are  up  to.  Don't  elect  him, 
whatever  you  do.  Vote  for  Jim  Rawson.  He's  the  best 
man  in  this  fight.  Hear,  now,  I  withdraw  in  his  favor. 
Evans  withdraws  in  favor  of  Rawson."  And  he  raised  his 
voice  excitedly  :  "  Here,  you,  run  and  put  that  on  a  sign  ! 
There's  time  yet  to  elect  him  !  " 

At  this  juncture  a  group  of  Y.  W.  C.  A.  co-eds 
appeared,  timidly  approaching  the  polls.  "Good  after- 
noon, Miss  Powell,"  began  Evans  in  an  aggressive  voice. 
"  I  want  you  ladies  all  to  understand  that  Evans  has  with- 
drawn in  favor  of  Rawson.  Don't  vote  for  machine  politics. ' ' 

"We  won't,  Mr.  Evans,"  was  the  response. 

The  news  soon  spread  that  Ralph  Evans  had  broken  loose 
at  the  polls  and  licked  Roland  Chinn.  A  crowd  gathered 
from  all  sides,  with  the  effect  of  bringing  up  many  stray 
votes.  Evans  held  his  ground,  relaxing  nothing  in  his 
endeavors  to  elect  Rawson.  He  found  ready  sympathizers 
and  converts.  Nearly  three-quarters  of  the  vote  cast  after 
three  o'clock  was  for  James.  But  if  the  truth  had  been 
known,  he  had  been  running  ahead  from  the  start.  At 
five  o'clock  Robbins  rubbed  his  hands  delightedly.  He 
did  not  appear  for  dinner.  That  evening,  as  James  was 
studying,  he  heard  a  clatter  on  the  stairs,  and  Robbins  and 
George  burst  into  his  room. 

"  You're  it,  Jim  !  Shake  !  You're  the  thing  !  "  they 
shouted,  and  producing  a  strip  of  paper,  Robbins  read, 
impressively  :  "  Holland,  169  ;  Evans,  76  ;  Little  Jim 
Rawson,  222.  Wow!" 


CHAPTER  X 


"How   the    Other  Half  Lives 


"  By  the  way,  Jim,  the  Gammas  are  going  to  have  a 
little  blow-out  for  the  football  push  tonight,  and  the  boys 
wanted  me  to  ask  you  around.  First  chance  we've  had  to 
bore  the  team  as  a  whole,  but  it's  better  late  than  never. 
Percy's  going  to  come  over  to  dinner.  Suppose  you  join 
him.  I'll  call  for  you." 

"  I'm  afraid  that  I  won't  be  able  to  go,  Charlie. 
Thanks  just  the  same." 

' '  That's  no  excuse.     What's  to  prevent  ?  ' ' 

"  I  can't  get  off  so  early.  Have  to  be  on  hand  for 
dinner." 

11  Yes.  You  can  come  if  you  want  to.  It's  Saturday, 
and  they'll  all  go  over  to  town." 

"  Well,  I  have  some  digging  to  do." 

"  Digging  be  hanged  !     Come  along,  it'll  keep." 

' '  There  are  other  reasons. ' ' 

"There  are  —  ?  Oh,  I  see.  Maybe  you've  got  an 
anti-frat  sourball !  Spit  it  out." 

"That's  about  the  size  of  it,"  admitted  James,  laugh- 
ing. "I  don't  know  much  about  them,  and  I  don't  know 
that  I  want  to.  Anyhow,  I  don't  tog  up  fit  to  mix  in  frat 
company." 

"Ha,  ha,  that's  a  good  one  !  You  just  ought  to  see 
us  in  undress  uniform.  Come  any  way  you  want.  I  won't 


"How  the    Other   Half  Lives"  139 


take  a  'no*  now.  We'll  have  to  remove  that  sourball. 
Ask  Percy.  He  used  to  have  one,  too.  He'll  tell  you  to 
come.  So  long.  I'll  call  for  you  at  six,"  and  Boyce 
walked  off. 

"Yes,  I'd  go  if  I  were  you,  Jim/'  advised  Percy.  ' '  It's 
a  phase  of  college  life  that  you  haven't  seen,  and  you  won't 
appreciate  either  it  or  the  whole  until  you've  seen  it. 
They're  a  fine  set  of  boys,  even  if  some  of  them  are  hand- 
icapped by  being  rich  men's  sons.  They'll  treat  you  well. 
I  used  to  think  that  they  were  snobs,  but  I  guess  I  was 
rather  touchy  about  my  fallen  fortunes.'* 

"Whatfratisit?" 

"Gamma  Delta  Epsilon,  up  on  Bancroft  Way.  It's 
one  of  the  nicest  frats  in  college.  Mostly  rich  men's  sons 
from  preps  down  San  Mateo  and  Belmont  way.  It's 
neither  sporty  nor  ultra-fashionable." 

"Coming  over  to  the  Gammas  tonight,  Jim  ? "  queried 
Hawley. 

"Yes,  guess  I  will." 

"Here  we  are,"  announced  Boyce,  as  they  paused 
before  an  imposing  brick  building,  surrounded  by  a  well- 
kept  lawn.  This  is  where  the  Gammas  hold  forth.  Come 
right  up,  boys."  He  took  them  directly  across  a  hard- 
wood floored  and  be-rugged  hall  to  a  broad  room  opposite. 
"This  is  our  bumming  room.  It's  where  we  put  in  most  of 
our  time." 

It  was  a  fine,  roomy,  comfortable  apartment,  with  a 
large  table  occupying  the  middle  ground.  Comfortable 
couches,  piled  high  with  pillows,  filled  in  the  corners,  and 
cozy  chairs  were  scattered  invitingly  about.  An  ample  fire- 
place was  throwing  out  a  cheerful  blaze.  In  one  corner 


1 4o         For  the  Blue  and   Gold 


stood  a  piano,  at  which  a  youth  was  sitting,  idly  drumming 
out  the  latest  coon  song.  Several  others  were  lounging 
over  the  table,  throwing  dice. 

"  I'll  introduce  you,  boys,"  and  they  went  around  the 
room. 

"  Glad  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Rawson.  We  all  feel  as  if  we 
knew  you  without  an  introduction.  Football  men  are  the 
common  property  of  the  whole  college." 

"Yes,  and  class  prexes  just  as  much,"  chimed  in  the 
man  at  the  piano  —  Burton,  left  end — "as  you'll  find  out, 
Jim,  before  you  get  through. ' ' 

Dinner  was  now  announced.  As  they  entered  the 
dining-room,  the  other  Gammas  stepped  up  to  be  introduced 
to  James.  Percy,  nearly  all  of  them  knew,  this  not  being 
his  first  visit. 

Boyce  placed  Percy  at  his  left  and  James  at  his  right, 
near  the  middle  of  the  table. 

' '  Our  motto  here  is  everything  in  its  place.  See  those 
sober-looking  mugs  at  that  end?  They're  all  seniors. 
They  get  served  first  and  have  the  choice  of  everything  — 
best  rooms  in  the  house  and  all.  Next  to  them  are  the 
juniors,  then  comes  my  crowd,  and,  at  the  other  end  you 
see  the  poor-  little  freshies,  who  have  to  take  what's  left  and 
supe  for  everybody. ' ' 

At  this  the  Chinese  waiter  came  in  with  the  soup.  He 
placed  the  first  two  plates  before  Percy  and  James. 

"But  I'm  not  a  senior  ;  didn't  he  make  a  mistake  ?  " 
inquired  James. 

"  No,  you're  a  visitor.  They  come  first.  And  Wong 
knows  one  as  far  as  he  sees  him.  Why,  during  the  rushing 
season,  when  we  have  a  new  freshman  or  two  in  here  almost 


"How   the    Other   Half  Lives"  141 


every  evening,  you'd  think  he'd  get  rattled,  but  he  is  right 
on  every  time.  He  never  misses  his  cue."  A  voice  from 
across  the  table  : 

"What's  that  about  Wong  missing  his  queue?  That 
was  a  narrow  escape  the  monkey  had,  wasn't  it  ?  Tell  Mr. 
Rawson  the  whole  tail  (h'm,  excuse  me),  Charlie,  you 
know  the  time  when  we  initiated  him  into  our  service,  and 
we  near  succeeded  in  cutting  his  pig- tail  off." 

James  has  been  inquisitive  as  to  what  sort  of  conversa- 
tion will  pass  around  the  table.  There  is  not  much  talk 
about  college  work,  such  as  he  has  heard  from  the  new  fresh- 
men about  the  Oski-Wow  board.  Football  talk  is  indulged 
in  to  some  extent,  owing  perhaps  to  the  presence  of  Percy 
and  James,  but  the  main  topic  of  conversation,  recurred  to 
again  and  again,  like  the  motif  in  an  opera,  has  to  do  with 
an  escapade  in  which  several  of  the  Gammas  have  captured 
a  freezer  full  of  ice-cream  from  the  kitchen  of  a  neighboring 
frat,  during  an  entertainment.  This  is  viewed  and  reviewed 
from  all  sides,  each  participant  adding  some  phase,  telling 
his  part  or  asking  another's.  Burton,  the  only  varsity 
football  man  in  the  frat,  has  been  the  hero  of  the  ice-cream 
episode.  Indeed,  he  seems  to  be  the  hero  in  general  of  the 
frat,  judging  from  the  number  of  times  his  name  is  handled, 
and  he  is  appealed  to. 

"  You'd  ought  to  have  seen  Burt's  angelic  smile  when 
he  returned  to  the  open  window  with  that  freezer.  I 
thought  he'd  split  his  face." 

"  My,  wasn't  that  a  good  one  on  Windom  !  I  heard 
him  inviting  Miss  Thompson  around,  and,  as  an  extra 
inducement,  he  was  a-telling  her  that  they'd  have  a  freezer 
of  Mason's  best,  her  favorite  dish.  And  then  when  we  get 


For  the  Blue  and  Go  la 


back,  Burt  goes  to  the  'phone,  rings  up  the  Kappas  and 
asks  for  Miss  Thompson.  '  Hello,  may  I  call  for  you  on 
your  way  home,  Miss  Thompson?  You  may  be  thirsty, 
and  we  have  a  fine  can  of  Mason's  best  over  here.'  " 

"It'd  been  a  great  one  on  the  Kappas  if  she'd  a 
come.0 

"Yes,  that  was  too  bad.  But  the  ice-cream  was  all 
nght,  hey,  Burt  ?  You've  got  traces  of  it  on  your  sweater 
yet." 

"  Who  put  them  there  ?  " 

"  Say,  fellows,  it'd  be  a  great  josh  if  we  took  that 
empty  freezer  back  and  sneaked  it  into  the  kitchen  again. 
What  do  you  say  to  that,  Burt?  " 

"I'll  go  you." 

"'Phone,  'phone,  wake  up,  there,  freshman,  step 
lively." 

"Yes,  it's  his  job  to  answer  the  'phone,"  explained 
Boyce.  "Each  freshie  has  something  special  to  do.  I 
carved  last  year,  and  I  tell  you  I  was  glad  to  graduate 
from  it.  Here,  freshman,  what  sort  of  a  slice  is  that  to 
give  to  company?  You  couldn't  carve  a  roll  of  butter." 

Dinner  over,  the  company  adjourned  to  the  bumming 
room.  "What  do  you  say  to  a  look  around  the  house, 
Jim,  before  the  fellows  come?  Everybody's  stupid  after 
dinner,  anyhow." 

Boyce  and  Burton  took  James  in  hand  for  a  tour  of  the 
ouilding — from  the  cellar,  where  the  smokers  were  held, 
and  where  the  keg  was  cooling  off  for  the  evening,  up  to  the 
newest  freshman's  room  in  the  garret.  They  showed 
everything,  with  greatest  particularization  and  pride.  Every 
room  was  decorated  to  its  utmost  —  college  flags  and 


"How   the    Other   Half  Lives"  143 


banners,  posters,  photographs,  sporting  implements,  and 
trophies  of  one  sort  or  another  —  the  tastes,  if  not  the  charac- 
ter, of  each  inmate  being  easily  read  in  the  adornment  of 
his  apartments.  Everywhere  were  pictures  of  the  football 
team,  collectively  and  individually.  From  many  a  wall 
James  saw  himself  in  his  football  togs,  with  a  big  C  standing 
out  from  his  breast,  looking  down  upon  himself. 

"Here's  our  den,"  announced  Burton.  "  Charlie  and 
I  bunk  together."  A  large  banner,  with  California  spelled 
upon  it  in  letters  a  foot  high,  covered  one  side.  Opposite, 
a  hammock  netting  was  stretched  flat  against  the  wall  —  a 
receptacle  for  photographs. 

"That  thing's  beginning  to  sag,  Burt.  We'll  have  to 
have  a  clearance  sale  soon. " 

Large  photographs  of  the  two  teams  on  which  Burton 
had  played  covered  the  space  between  the  windows. 

"There,"  said  Burton,  pointing  to  the  picture  in  which 
he  was  lying  down  in  front,  and  James  standing  up  in  back, 
"is  the  best  team  —  team,  mind  you  —  that  California  has 
produced,  even  if  we  did  play  on  it." 

"  Here's  Ransome's  nose-guard,  Jim,"  taking  it  down 
from  a  corner  of  the  bureau.  "Touch  it  reverently.  That 
was  the  greatest  footballer  that  California  ever  sent  out. 
Ever  hear  how  he  stood  out  in  the  pouring  rain  and  kicked 
the  goal  from  the  side  of  the  field  that  saved  the  day  for  us  ? 
Well,  he  walked  around  that  ball  for  more  than  five 
minutes  as  a  cat  walks  around  a  mouse.  The  people  were 
simply  crazy  with  the  suspense.  But  that  didn't  hurry 
Ransome.  He  just  stood  there  in  the  slush,  the  rain  beat- 
ing down  on  his  bare  head.  The  second  half  whistle  had 
blown  a  minute  after  the  touch-down,  and  it  was  6-4 


144         For  the   Blue  and  Gold 


against  California.  Well,  after  an  age  —  I  thought  that  I 
would  smother —  Ransome  got  good  and  ready.  He  backs 
off,  wipes  the  mud  from  his  toe,  and  —  thump  —  it  was  over. 
But  if  there' d  been  a  splinter  on  that  goal-post  the  ball 
wouldn't  have  gone  by.  I  was  a  prep  then.  That  kick 
decided  me  to  come  to  California. " 

"  It  must  have  been  great." 

' '  Look  over  here,  Jim.  This  is  our  collection  of  pro- 
grams of  past  student  blow-outs.  We  sponge  most  of  them 
off  our  fratres  in  urbe.  They're  a  good  record  of  the  part 
that  the  Gammas  have  played  in  student  activities  —  mental 
as  well  as  physical.  See  those  two  junior  farce  programs  ? 
Farces  by  North  and  Howard  —  both  Gammas.  Here's  the 
collection  of  Bourdon  invitations.  You'll  be  getting  one 
out  yourself  pretty  soon.  You're  welcome  to  the  use  of 
these  if  you  want  some  pointers.  There's  a  procession  of 
Gammas  on  those  programs — that  shows  the  standing  that 
our  men  have  had  with  their  classes.  See,  there's  one, 
there's  another  and  another.  Bacon  there  was  class  prex. 
Here  are  several  Kappa  Chis,  too.  That's  Holland's  frat. 
We're  proud  of  things  like  these,  but  here's  the  other  side 
of  the  picture — our  invitations  to  the  sessions  of  the  com- 
mittee on  student  affairs." 

"  Tell  the  truth,  Burt ;  you  know  that  you're  proud  of 
those,  too." 

"Let's  be  getting  down-stairs.  They'll  think  we're 
lost." 

The  bumming-room  and  the  billiard-room  adjoining 
were  filling  up.  The  air  was  thickening  with  tobacco 
smoke.  The  table  had  been  removed,  and  its  place  was 
taken  by  several  rows  of  chairs,  well  occupied. 


"How   the    Other   Half  Lives'"  145 


Now  came  the  event  of  the  evening.  The  keg  was 
broached  and  soon  perspiring  freshmen,  their  sleeves  rolled 
up,  were  darting  to  and  fro  with  trays  full  of  beer  steins. 

"  Hey,  freshie,  this  way,  zwei  !  " 

"  Get  a  move  on,  now  !  " 

"Here,  don't  spill  that  beer  all  over  my  pants  !  " 

' '  Say,  ask  that  freshman  down  cellar  where  he  learned 
to  draw  beer." 

"This  seems  like  the  days  before  Thanksgiving. Day,*' 
smiled  Hawley,  contentedly  puffing  away. 

"  No,  we'd  be  sucking  oat  meal  water  through  a  straw, 
and  going  through  signal  practice  in  our  sleep.  Ugh,  I 
don't  see  how  I  can  ever  bring  myself  to  that  again." 

"  You  will  next  year,  just  the  same.  There  are  worse 
things  —  and  it  gives  a  fellow  a  proper  appetite  for  this. ' ' 

' '  A  song,  clear  the  way  for  a  song  !  Our  friend  Brick 
Reddy  will  now  sing  us  a  song  and  dance. ' ' 

"  Now  stand  by  your  glasses,  steady ; 
For  here's  to  the  dead  already ; 
Three  cheers  for  the  next  man  who  dies  !  " 

"Good  boy,  Brick.  Hit  'em  again,  harder,"  which 
was  an  encore. 

"  Now  the  only  German  Siamese  twins  will  do  their 
stunt."  As  announced,  this  was  the  "representation  of 
two  Germans  returning  from  a  '  feetball '  game. ' ' 

"Ach,  didt  you  benotice  dot  gazell  Pete  as  he  made 
der  kangeroo  ?  ' ' 

'  *  I  saw  me  no  kangeroo.  Dot  war  no  kangeroo,  dot 
war  ein  touch-unter. ' ' 

"Oh,  nit,  es  war  ein  feel-down,  so  dey  called  it.  When 
dey  all  tumbled  mit  one  anoder  over  und  under.  Ach,  it 


146         For  the  Blue  and   Gold 


war  great,  no,  don't  you  tink  ?  "     And  so  on  ad  infinitum 
until  pipes  tumbled  out  of  mouths,  and  beer  out  of  steins. 

Good  feeling  reigned  supreme.  The  songs  became 
general  and  the  piano  was  being  thumped  into  paralysis. 

"  Palms  of  Victory, "  "  California's  Bound  to  Win  "  — 
the  whole  repertoire,  including  the  football  yells,  was 
rehearsed.  It  harked  James  back  to  those  stirring  Novem- 
ber days  just  preceding  the  great  game,  when,  his  time  of 
stress  over,  he  had  lived  in  a  rare  atmosphere,  tense  with 
action  and  enthusiasm.  A  glow  of  good-fellowship  suffused 
him,  and  he  sang  and  shouted  with  the  loudest. 

"  Here  are  some  Kappa  Chis,  fellows,  attracted  over 
by  the  scent  of  beer."  A  group  entered  and  was  soon 
circulating  about  the  room,  asking  for  tobacco  and  receiving 
tankards.  Those  who  were  unacquainted  were  being  intro- 
duced. 

Suddenly,  as  James  glanced  up,  he  saw  Burton  leading 
Chester  Holland  by  the  arm.  The  latter  seemed  to  be 
holding  back. 

"Here,  Chet,  I  want  to  introduce  you  to  Jim 
Rawson.  Mr.  Rawson,  this  is  Mr.  Holland.  Shake,  now, 
and  don't  you  forget  it." 

"I'll  shake,"  began  James,  rising  to  his  feet  and 
holding  out  his  hand. 

"  So'll  I."     Holland  stretched  out  his. 

"That's  proper  talk.  We're  all  members  of  one 
family." 

Holland  braced  himself  up  very  straight  :  "I  want  to 
say,  Mr.  Rawson,  that  as  president  of  the  class,  you  will 
have  my  support  in  every  measure  for  its  benefit."  He 
was  red  in  the  face  as  he  haltingly  forced  this  speech  out. 


"How  the    Other  Half  Lives"  i47 


"Thank  you.  Pm  glad  to  know  that  I  can  call  on 
you."  They  shook  again  as  Holland  was  pulled  away  for 
another  introduction. 

Over  in  a  corner  Holland  spoke  to  Burton.  "What 
made  you  do  that?  Don't  you  know  we're  enemies?" 

"Go  along,  Chet.  That's  kid's  talk.  Enemies! 
You  must  have  been  reading  dime  novels.  We  don't  have 
enemies  in  this  chapter-house.  Rawson's  a  mighty  white 
fellow,  and  the  sooner  you  recognize  it,  the  more  your 
friends  will  think  of  you. ' ' 

"  Well,  I'll  bury  the  hatchet  if  he  will." 

"That's  proper  talk." 

Soon  the  party  began  to  break  up. 

"  Before  you  go  fellows  :  'Here's  to  you,  my  jovial 
friend  '  to  the  team,"  and  the  steins  were  raised. 

"  Here's  to  you  Dick  Hawley  ! 

Here's  to  you,  my  jovial  friend  ! 
And  we'll  drink  before  this  God-forsaken  company  ! 
We'll  drink  before  we  part ! 
Here's  to  you  Dick  Hawley !  " 

And  so  on  down  the  line  until : 

"  Here's  to  you,  Jim  Rawson  ! 
Here's  to  you,  my  jovial  friend  !  " 

James  felt  a  strange  thrill  run  through  his  frame,  as, 
keeping  time  to  the  slow  intonation,  the  steins  nodded  to 
him  in  unison. 

'  *  Do  you  think  the  fellows  really  care  so  much  for  us, 
Jim  ?  ' '  Percy  asked  when  they  were  outside. 

' '  I  think  they  do,  Percy, ' '  was  the  answer.  And  they 
walked  on  in  silence. 


148         For  the   Blue   and  Gold 


"  Where  were  you  keeping  yourself  last  night,  Jim  ?  I 
was  looking  for  you,"  queried  George  the  next  morning. 

1 '  I  was  over  at  the  Gammas'  house. ' ' 

"  So  ?  Trying  to  pull  your  leg  for  Bourdon  appoint- 
ments ?  " 

"I  hadn't  looked  at  it  in  that  way.  No,  I  don't  think 
they  were.  They  had  all  the  football  push  over  there,  and 
entertained  us.  Did  it  up  brown,  too. ' ' 

"Well,  I  don't  go  much  on  those  frat  guys.  They 
think  they're  better  people  than  the  rest  of  us.  They  want 
to  run  the  whole  college,  though  they're  only  a  small  frac- 
tion of  the  whole.  They  haven't  any  use  for  a  non-frat 
unless  they  want  something  from  him. ' ' 

"  I  don't  know  as  to  that,  George.  It  may  be  that 
they  want  to  use  me,  but  they  didn't  show  it.  There  was 
no  word  mentioned  out  of  the  way,  and  they  struck  me  as  a 
mighty  fine  lot  of  boys  —  gentlemen,  all  of  them.  It's  an 
ideal  sort  of  life  those  fellows  live  there — they 're  just  like 
brothers." 

' '  It  may  be  ideal  for  them,  all  right,  but  just  because 
they  have  a  little  dough  is  no  reason  why  they  should  set 
themselves  apart.  I  don't  take  much  stock  in  this  frat 
business.  Those  fellows  haven't  got  proper  college  spirit. 
It's  frat  first,  and  college  next.  A  lot  of  them  don't  wear 
a  class  pin  on  their  lapels  ;  some  not  even  a  California 
pennant,  but  you  don't  find  one  without  his  frat  pin  on  his 
vest.  They  don't  want  to  know  a  college  man,  unless  he's 
a  frat  man,  and  they  won't  mix  with  any  that  are  not.  The 
frat  system  is  clannish  and  makes  snobs  out  of  fellows. 
It  ought  to  be  abolished.  Now,  look  at  the  way  they 
treated  Percy.  Four  months  before  he  came  here  they 


"How  the    Other   Half  Lives"  149 


would  have  been  glad  to  have  had  him.  But  they  had  no 
use  for  him  when  they  found  he'd  lost  his  stuff.  No  frat  in 
mine."  And  George,  having  run  out  of  denunciatory 
material,  ended  his  philippic. 

"  Percy  was  admitting,  only  last  night,  that  he'd  prob- 
ably been  a  little  too  touchy  about  that.  I  guess  the  fel- 
lows would  have  been  glad  to  have  him.  They  seem  to 
think  a  good  deal  of  him,  but  they  knew  he  couldn't  afford 
to  live  the  way  he  would  have  to  if  he  had  joined  their 
frat." 

"That's  just  the  point  of  it.  They  have  no  use  for 
him  if  he  hasn't  the  dough,  no  matter  how  fine  a  fellow  he 
is." 

' '  Yes,  they  have  ;  and  they  think  just  as  much  of  him 
so  far  as  I  can  see.  You  don't  want  to  run  away  with  that 
idea.  But  we  have  to  face  the  fact,  Cub,  that  there  are  some 
things  a  fellow  can't  have  without  dough.  It  involves  no 
loss  of  self-respect  to  the  fellow  who  hasn't  the  price.  He  does 
without  it,  unless  he  wants  it  pretty  bad,  and  then  he  goes 
to  work  and  raises  it.  If  he  makes  his  stuff  in  a  clean  way, 
why  he  can  enter  his  frat  and  they'll  be  glad  to  have  him, 
and  forget  that  he  didn't  always  have  the  price.  You  see, 
the  frat,  like  other  terrestrial  institutions,  is  on  a  sort  of 
monometallic  basis  of  1  to  1  (it  gives  one  for  one) ,  and  not 
16  to  1,  or  any  other  ratio.  It  has  its  house  and  furnish- 
ings, food  and  help  to  pay  for,  and  that  takes  money  ;  so  it 
can't  give  them  away  (however  much  it  would  like  to)  for 
any  less  than  they  cost.  The  more  things  there  are  to  pay 
for  (the  ratio  being  stable),  the  more  dough  it  takes  to 
pay  for  them.  In  other  words,  the  law  precludes  our  get- 
ting the  something  that  the  frat  has  for  nothing.  Of 


50         For  the  Blue  and  Gold 


course,  the  frat  might  make  its  headquarters  out  on  the 
campus  and  eat  grasshoppers,  but  then  there  wouldn't  be 
anything  for  a  fellow  to  work  for — at  least  as  things  are  now 
ordered.  I'm  not  setting  up  for  a  champion  of  frats,  but 
just  pointing  out  what  might  be  urged  in  their  defense. " 

"  Oh,  it's  all  right  for  you  to  work  off  a  long-winded 
jolly  like  that,  but  it  wasn't  ages  ago  since  we  agreed  pretty 
well  on  the  frat  question ! ' ' 

' '  Give  a  man  the  privilege  of  changing,  George," 
laughed  James.  "Talk  of  men  changing,  you  can't  guess 
whom  I  shook  hands  with  last  night  ?  ' ' 

'  *  How  should  I  know  ?  Anything  was  liable  to  hap- 
pen to  you  last  night.  With  Cap  Holland,  or  his  sneak 
brother,  for  all  I  can  guess." 

"  Sure  enough,  with  the  latter.  Burt  played  angel  of 
peace  and  brought  him  up.  He  went  through  the  ordeal 
like  a  man,  though,  and  volunteered  to  support  me  in  any 
measures  for  the  good  of  the  class.  We  shook.  It  made 
me  think  better  of  him. ' ' 

"I  guess  that  was  it."  George  nodded  his  head 
sagely.  "Holland  wants  to  pull  your  leg  for  a  job  on  the 
Bourdon.  You  must  have  been  hypnotized  last  night, 
Jim,"  and  George  walked  away  highly  disgusted. 

' '  George  thinks  that  they  want  to  pull  my  leg  for 
appointments,  Percy,"  said  James,  meeting  the  former  a 
while  after. 

"That's  one  way  of  putting  it,"  assented  Percy. 
' '  Maybe,  though,  they  only  wanted  to  give  you  a  chance 
to  judge  for  yourself  whether  they  were  not  worthy  of  it 
and  an  important  enough  factor  in  college  to  have  some 
positions  come  their  way.  Lots  of  the  Gammas  have  been 


"How  the   Other  Half  Lives'"  151 


on  former  Bourdons.  Freddy  Bacon,  a  few  years  back,  was 
Pontifex  Maximus.  They've  cut  a  prominent  figure  in 
college  activities. ' ' 

"Yes,  Charlie  and  Burt  were  showing  me  some  pro- 
grams, and  they  pointed  out  their  men.  But  George  seems 
to  think  that  Holland  is  looking  for  something. ' ' 

"  I  hardly  think  Burt  had  any  such  thought  when  he 
brought  him  up  to  you.  Burt's  not  that  sort  of  a  fellow." 

"  No,  I  don't  think  that  for  a  minute." 

"  But  I  tell  you  what,  Jim,  if  you  want  to  follow  the 
custom,  I  don't  see  how  you  can  escape  offering  a  speaker- 
ship,  at  least,  to  your  defeated  rival  for  the  presidency.  It's 
the  usual  thing,  and  if  you  don't  do  it,  it  will  look  as  if 
you're  letting  your  personal  prejudices  interfere." 

"  That's  so.  I  didn't  know  that.  Well,  if  it's  the 
proper  thing,  I  don't  intend  to  omit  it,  though  I  can't  say 
that  I  like  the  idea  of  mixing  up  so  thick  with  Holland. 
And  then,  if  I  give  him  a  place,  there'll  be  talk.  Cub  is 
my  friend,  and  you  see  how  he  takes  it." 

"  Well,  there'll  be  talk  if  you  don't,  too.  You  can't 
stop  people  from  shooting  off  their  mouths." 

" That's  true.  But  if  I  offer  Holland  a  place  I'll  have 
to  offer  Evans  one,  also." 

"I  guess  so,  though  he's  not  exactly  a  defeated  candi- 
date. But  Ev's  a  Phi  Tau  Kappa,  and  it  will  be  recognition 
for  them  if  you  do.  Besides,  he  did  the  white  thing  by 
you." 

"Yes,  he  did.  Well,  that's  settled."  A  few  days 
after,  Rawson  met  Holland  on  the  campus.  * '  Good  morn- 
ing, Mr.  Holland."  James  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Good  morning, "  a  little  stiffly. 


152         For  the  Blue  and  Gold 


"  If  you're  not  in  a  hurry,  I'd  like  to  say  a  few  words.'* 

"Well?"  He  was  making  it  a  little  difficult  for 
James  to  begin. 

"I'd  like  you  to  be  one  of  the  Bourdon  speakers." 

Holland  did  not  relax.  "Thank  you.  I'll  have  to 
think  it  over.  I'll  let  you  know  tomorrow.  Will  that  be 
time?" 

"Plenty.     No  hurry.     There  are  no  strings  to  it." 

"Good  day."  Holland  started  off,  hesitated.  "One 
minute,  Mr.  Rawson.  I  don't  want  you  to  offer  this  —  I 
want  you  to  take  it  back,  if  you  do  it  only  because  you  feel 
you  have  to,  because  it's  the  proper  thing." 

"No  have  to  about  it,"  James  shook  his  head  con- 
vincingly. "It's  all  want  to.  Goodbye,  see  you  later." 
Holland  put  out  his  hand.  Another  interview  followed  a 
few  days  later.  At  first  coldness,  reticence.  A  gradual 
thaw.  Acceptance  at  last.  A  heartier  hand-shake  at  part- 
ing. '  *  Not  such  a  bad  duffer,  after  all.  The  Berkeley  air 
is  reducing  his  head."  (James'  thought.) 

* '  Not  such  an  uncouth  guy  as  I  thought.  Guess 
college  is  taking  off  some  of  the  roughness."  (Holland's 
thought.) 

Evans,  while  declining  a  speakership,  took  a  place  on 
the  executive  committee.  George  did  likewise.  It  was 
some  time  before  James  could  mollify  him.  Robbins, 
invested  with  the  duty  of  Glorificatio,  began  to  think  up  all 
that  he  could  say  in  favor  of  Minto  and  Bourdon. 

But  soon  James'  planning  for  Bourdon  was  rudely 
interrupted  by  an  event,  that,  for  a  time,  cast  from  his  mind 
thoughts  of  all  else  but  rough  house,  rope  and  tied-up 
sophomores. 


CHAPTER  XI 

Trouble   on   the  Hill 


Charter  day,  the  university's  birthday,  was  approach- 
ing, and  with  it  the  smoldering  fire  of  antagonism  between 
freshman  and  sophomore  began  to  flame  up  again.  This 
had  seemed  to  have  burned  itself  out  pretty  well  after  the 
first  rush,  and  had  only  flickered  up  now  and  then,  as  the 
sophomores  baited  the  freshmen  in  little  ways  peculiar  to 
their  kind,  such  as  breaking  up  a  freshman  class  meetiiig 
by  turning  on  the  fire  hose  through  the  window,  or  when  the 
freshmen  had  provoked  a  ' '  back-stop  ' '  rush  down  on  the 
baseball  field  by  painting  their  class  number  on  the  ' '  back- 
stop "  and  daring  the  sophomores,  like  a  boy  with  a  chip  on 
his  shoulder,  to  paint  it  out,  which  they  promptly  did. 
But  occasions  such  as  these  had  been  purely  informal .  Now 
another  formal  occasion  was  coming.  Student  custom 
decrees  that,  on  the  night  before  charter  day,  the  freshmen 
should  paint  (or  otherwise  display)  their  class  number  on  a 
certain  knoll  among  the  hills  east  of  the  campus,  and  maintain 
it  there  during  charter  day  against  the  sophomores'  endeavor 
to  obliterate  it.  The  result  —  a  rush.  If  the  freshmen  should 
win  (by  tying  up  the  sophomores  and  paroling  them  atterwards) 
the  number  stays  put,  the  admiration  of  all  who  come  to  the 
charter  day  exercises,  and  of  the  city  students  arriving  on  the 
train  the  next  morning.  If  the  sophomores  should  win  — 
well,  the  class  number  on  the  hill  is  then  diminished  by  one. 


For  the  Blue  and  Gold 


This  ceremony  usually  begets  a  desire  to  display  class 
numbers  in  other  places,  and  as  a  consequence,  the  quiet 
people  of  Berkeley  awake  on  March  23d  to  find  their  fences, 
barns  and  sidewalks  besmeared  with  ill-shapen  numbers  as 
tall  as  a  man,  usually  in  flaring  red  paint,  and  the  campus 
fences  are  closely  covered  with  the  same. 

One  more  formal  collision  is  to  occur —  at  the  freshman 
Bourdon  in  April,  and  then  the  sophomore  will  cast  aside 
his  weapons  (ripe  eggs  and  rope  ends),  and,  donning  his 
gray  plug,  begin  to  take  a  fatherly  interest  in  the  new 
freshman  class,  while  the  present  freshman  will  assume  the 
tyrannical  role  of  him  whom  he  now  so  heartily  despises. 
Queer  things,  these  student  customs  —  unwritten  laws  with 
whose  origin  or  reason  nobody  concerns  himself.  They  are 
blindly,  universally  followed,  for  the  fun  that  is  in  them,  by 
every  college  student  in  his  day.  You  will  find  precisely 
the  same  relations  existing  between  freshman  and  sopho- 
more in  every  college  in  the  land  —  not  to  speak  of  other 
lands.  Their  clashes  produce  no  ill-will,  although  for  the 
time  the  participants  are  in  deadly  earnest.  When  the  time 
to  quit  comes,  the  erstwhile  opponents  graduate  quickly  into 
staid  upper  classmen.  Seemingly  queer  things,  indeed,  but 
not  so  queer  when  one  realizes  that  these  customs  exist  simply 
to  furnish  an  escape  valve  for  the  overflowing  spirits  of  youth. 

"Are  the  starters  ready,  Jim?  "  asks  George. 

"  All  is  prepared.  We  go  up  by  the  light  of  the  moon, 
and  we  will  grave  our  number  so  deeply  and  guard  it  so 
stoutly,  that  not  all  the  sophs  in  sophdom  shall  get  at  it." 

"  Is  that  barrel  of  Portland  cement  where  it  won't  get 
wet  if  it  rains?  My,  won't  we  show  those  sophs  some- 
thing new  in  numbers  ! ' ' 


Trouble   on   the   Hill 


"Sure,  they  won't  pick  our  number  out  with  a  tooth- 
pick/' 

"And  are  you  sure  that  Percy  isn't  on?  " 

* f  No,  I  don' t  think  he  is,  though  he  was  trying  his  best 
to  snoop  around.  He  was  out  gathering  pollywogs  for  his 
zoo  lab  when  the  deed  was  done." 

Here,  as  at  the  first  rush,  the  triumvirate  had  been 
parted  by  class  affiliations,  James  and  George  with  the 
freshmen,  and  Percy  with  the  sophomores.  They  had 
entered  into  a  good-natured  rivalry,  and  were  doing  their 
best  to  circumvent  each  other  in  the  interests  of  their 
classes.  Had  James  only  known  it,  Percy's  search  for 
pollywogs  had  brought  him  far  afield,  and  he  had  unearthed 
a  strange  specimen. 

Rawson  was  to  head  the  expedition,  as  a  matter  of 
course,  for  he  was  now  looked  upon  as  the  natural  leader, 
combining,  as  he  did,  the  position  of  class  president  with 
the  character  of  all  round  strong  man.  The  force  was  a 
picked  one,  composed  of  about  eighty  lusty  freshmen,  the 
"rough-house  push."  Shortly  before  eleven  o'clock  they 
formed  up  at  the  end  of  Dwight  Way,  in  the  shadow  of  the 
Deaf  and  Dumb  Asylum's  wall.  They  lined  up  three 
abreast,  with  James  in  front,  Evans  on  his  right  side  and 
George  on  his  left. 

A  motley  assemblage  it  was  !  —  A  cross  between  a 
picnic  party  and  the  night-shift  of  a  mine  going  on  duty. 
The  picnic  feature  was  furnished  by  three  score  loaves  of 
bread,  almost  as  many  cans  of  sardines  and  deviled  ham, 
cloth  bags  full  of  ground  coffee,  and  of  sugar,  a  large  wash- 
ing tub  in  which  to  concoct  the  preceding,  tin  cups  strung 
on  a  rope,  and  much  else  not  in  plain  sight.  Little  Robbing 


i56 


For  the   Blue   and   Gold 


was  staggering  under  a  California  cheese  as  large  as  a  drum. 
All  this  was  to  furnish  refreshment  to  the  party  after  it  had 
completed  its  labors  in  the  early  morning  and  was  waiting 
for  the  enemy  to  appear,  which  he  usually  did  at  dawn. 
There  was  enough  to  feed  a  regiment,  but  then  it  would  not 
come  amiss,  for  there  are  other  ways  of  utilizing  food  than 
by  merely  eating  it. 

The  mining  feature  was  lent  by  short-handled  shovels, 
picks,  numerous  buckets,  most  of  them  filled  with  broken 
rock.  Besides,  many  pockets  carried  lengths  of  clothes- 
line, although  the  few  accompanying  juniors  were  the 
principal  custodians  of  this  useful  article.  It  had  taken  a 
deal  of  levying  and  foraging  to  gather  all  this  paraphernalia. 
Old  clothes-bags  had  apparently  been  laid  under  tribute  to 
furnish  the  costumes.  Coats  were  worn  inside  out.  Not  a 
few  overalls  were  in  evidence.  The  most  apparent  articles 
of  attire  were  bicycle  caps  and  sweaters.  In  the  front  line, 
had  the  coats  been  thrown  open,  two  blue  "C"  sweaters 
(much-sought-for  badges  of  athletic  prowess),  could  have 
been  observed  on  the  persons  of  Evans  and  James. 

The  night  was  clear  and  crisp,  and  the  late  moon  was 
just  beginning  to  show  when  the  party  began  to  advance. 
Its  course  lay  due  north  to  the  university  tank  at  the  foot 
of  the  hill,  where,  so  the  word  was  being  passed,  something 
fine  for  making  class  numbers  was  safely  hid.  Presently 
the  water  tank  came  to  view,  and  James  called  a  halt. 
Detaching  himself  from  his  companions,  he  hurried  up 
along  the  pipe-line  to  a  little  gully,  snugly  concealed  by  over- 
growing branches.  In  a  moment  he  was  heard  to  utter  a 
sharp  exclamation,  and  the  others  quickly  joined  him. 

"It's  gone  !  "  he  gasped. 


Trouble  on   the  Hill  157 


"  What  ?  "  a  chorus.     They  gathered  close  about  him. 

"A  barrel  of  Portland  cement  to  make  our  number 
with." 

"Oh!"     "Oh!"     "Oh!" 

"Percy  Hunter,  I  bet  !"  exclaimed  George. 

"The  scamp!  I  bet  it  was.  But  it's  gone,  sure 
enough,  and  that's  the  end  of  it,"  and  James,  tilting  his 
cap,  scratched  his  head  disconsolately.  Suddenly,  "  Does 
any  fellow  here  know  where  we  can  beg,  borrow  or  steal 
some  cement  ?  ' ' 

"  I  do."  All  eyes  were  turned  on  little  Robbins,  who 
was  there  only  on  his  own  invitation. 

' '  Where  ? ' '  asked  everybody. 

"Down  Dwight  Way,  about  a  block  from  where  we 
formed.  They're  building,  and  this  is  for  the  sidewalk. 
There  are  a  whole  lot  of  barrels  under  a  cloth." 

"  Sure,  I  know  where  it  is,"  assented  George. 

"  Boys,"  said  James,  "we  simply  have  to  have  some  of 
that  cement  to  complete  our  happiness.  We  won't  beg  or 
steal  it  ;  let's  borrow  a  barrel  and  return  another  tomorrow 
night." 

"  It's  a  go,"  is  the  response. 

"  But  we'll  have  to  make  a  start  on  digging  the  num- 
ber. Let  every  other  man  drop  out  with  the  tools  and  go 
up  the  hill.  The  rest  of  us  will  rustle  up  the  cement.  The 
exact  place  for  the  number  is  marked  by  the  scar.  We'll 
only  have  to  change  the  second  number  and  deepen  the 
first.  George  will  do  the  outlining.  Some  can  dig,  and 
the  others  gather  wood  and  arrange  for  the  feed.  The 
sophs  are  agreed  not  to  interrupt  until  daylight.  Robbins, 
you  show  the  way." 


158         For  the  Blue  and  Gold 


Cautiously  the  foraging  party  retraced  its  steps.  When 
it  came  back  to  D  wight  Way  and  Waring  Street  it  paused 
to  reconnoitre.  A  block  away  was  the  unfinished  house, 
and  sure  enough  there  was  the  row  of  barrels  standing  out 
by  the  curb.  But  there,  too,  was  the  light  of  a  lantern 
shining,  around  by  a  tool-shed  toward  the  rear  of  the  building. 

"A  watchman!" 

"  So  it  seems,"  answered  James.  "  Let's  be  cautious 
and  win  by  strategy.  I  have  it.  We'll  divide  forces  and 
deploy  a  party  to  distract  his  attention.  Half  of  you  fellows 
circle  around  toward  the  west  and  get  into  that  empty  lot 
over  there.  Then  you  make  preparations  to  build  a  bonfire, 
and  the  watchman  will  come  over  to  see  what's  up.  We'll  go 
around  the  opposite  way  and  corral  that  cement.  You  hold 
him  as  long  as  you  can,  and  when  we're  safely  off  we'll  give 
you  the  cry  and  you  can  break  away.  That  all  right?  " 

"That's  O.  K.,"  assented  the  others,  and  they  divided 
accordingly. 

James  stayed  to  lead  the  party  that  was  to  secure  the 
cement.  They  circled  around  the  block,  and  came  out 
again  on  Dwight  Way,  facing  east.  As  they  approached 
the  building  they  made  out  some  shadowy  forms  moving 
over  in  the  empty  lot.  Soon  branches  began  to  crackle, 
and  a  small  flame  appeared.  With  this  the  watchman's  lan- 
tern began  to  move,  and  his  form  was  made  out  plodding 
over  toward  the  fire. 

"Now's  the  time  to  score,"  whispered  James,  and 
quickly  they  swooped  down  upon  the  cement  barrels. 
Eager  hands  grasped  a  handy  one,  and  were  soon  rolling  it 
away  out  of  danger  with  "heavy  mass  plays."  Around 
the  corner  they  hurried  and  back  along  the  asylum  wall. 


Trouble  on  the  Hill  159 


The  cry  was  now  sounded,  but  they  pushed  steadily  on. 
That  barrel  would  not  move  quicker  than  it  wanted  to,  no 
matter  how  many  willing  feet  and  arms  circled  it,  watch- 
ing a  chance  for  an  onward  shove. 

Presently  the  other  party  joined  them,  with  many  a 
laugh  at  the  puzzled  old  watchman. 

Now,  leaving  Evans  to  superintend  the  movement  of 
the  barrel,  James,  with  some  others,  advanced  to  see  how 
the  number  was  getting  on,  and  to  prepare  a  place  for  mix- 
ing the  cement.  They  found  an  active  crew  at  work  on  the 
symmetrical  outline  of  two  immense  figures,  laid  out  on  the 
most  conspicuous  point  of  the  hill  —  a  slope,  facing  south- 
east, visible  from  town  and  campus.  There  was  much  to  be 
done  before  the  cement  arrived.  The  channels  of  the  num- 
bers were  dug  V-shape,  to  the  depth  of  almost  a  foot. 
Then  the  broken  rock,  which  was  the  foundation  for  the 
cement,  was  laid  in  for  eight  inches,  wet,  and  tamped  down. 
The  rock  had  been  deposited  in  the  buckets,  at  the  tank, 
almost  a  quarter  of  a  mile  down  the  slope.  A  line  was  now 
formed  to  pass  it  up,  a  man  every  fifty  feet.  Each  would 
take  his  bucket  of  broken  rock,  and,  stumbling  up  the  slip- 
pery slope,  pass  it  to  the  next,  returning  for  another.  This 
was  done  like  clockwork.  George  and  some  of  the  other 
freshmen  belonged  to  the  "mining  push,"  and  James  had 
had  their  assistance  in  perfecting  the  arrangements.  They 
were  now  seeing  that  things  were  done  according  to  the 
most  approved  methods — just  learned  from  the  book. 
George  it  was,  who  had  thought  of  the  plan  of  putting  in  a 
number  so  that  it  could  not  readily  be  obliterated.  Former 
classes  had  been  content  with  merely  outlining  their  num- 
bers with  newspapers  or  whitewash. 


160         For  the  Blue  and  Gold 


An  hour  had  passed  since  James'  arrival.  The  Library 
clock  was  striking  one,  when,  with  many  a  puff,  and  last 
revengeful  kick,  the  barrel  of  cement  was  pushed  up  to  the 
tank. 

"  Phew  !  Golly  !  But  that  was  a  push  for  you  !  "  per- 
spired Evans.  "  It's  a  wonder  we  didn't  shake  the  ribs  off 
that  darn  thing." 

However,  this  was  play,  so  in  a  few  minutes  they  were 
as  lively  as  ever.  A  level  mixing  place  had  been  cleared. 
The  cement  barrel  was  knocked  to  pieces,  and,  directed  by 
George,  the  boys  were  soon  mixing  up  a  fine,  stiff  paste. 
The  bucket  line  was  again  formed,  and  the  prepared  cement 
passed  up.  Everybody  redoubled  his  energies — the  sooner 
the  job  was  finished,  the  longer  the  cement  would  have  to 
set  — and  the  sooner  they  would  get  at  that  ' '  feed. "  Many 
a  freshman  had  not  done  so  much  hard  work  in  a  year,  and 
wouldn't  for  a  year  to  come.  James  was  everywhere,  uphill 
and  down,  tirelessly  subdividing  the  forces  and  helping  and 
directing  the  various  operations  in  turn.  The  Library  clock 
had  not  long  struck  three  when  the  work  was  declared 
finished,  and  everybody  gathered  to  inspect  the  job. 

* '  The  finest  number  that  was  ever  on  the  hill, ' '  was  the 
delighted  cry.  Each  man  advanced  and  tried  the  hardness 
of  the  cement  with  his  finger.  A  fire  was  built  between  the 
two  numbers  to  hasten  the  drying,  and  part  of  the  workers 
sat  down  around  it  to  rest,  while  the  others  busied  them- 
selves over  the  cooking  fire . 

Soon  the  waiting  ones  got  impatient.  "  We  want 
coffee  !  "  "  We  want  sandwiches  !  "  came  the  cries,  and  they 
bustled  up  to  the  fringe  of  trees,  before  which  the  spread 
was  being  prepared.  Everybody  offering  his  services, 


Trouble  on   the  Hill  161 


compounded  the  confusion.  The  huge  tub  was  filled  with 
boiling  water,  brought  up  in  the  same  buckets  that  had  carried 
rock  and  cement.  Coffee  was  thrown  in,  tied  in  cloth  bags, 
sugar  was  poured  in,  and  all  well  mixed  with  a  shovel 
handle.  The  other  things  were  spread  out.  Then  they  fell 
to,  and  for  a  while  there  was  comparative  silence. 

When  the  food  had  been  disposed  of,  a  ring  was  formed 
around  the  fire,  and  the  songs  sung,  and  the  yells  yelled  — 
but  these  latter  not  to  their  full  pitch.  Then  stories  were 
told,  first  by  a  junior,  who  seemed  to  be  an  inexhaustible 
well  of  funny  yarns,  and,  after  he  had  positively  refused  to 
respond  to  further  encores,  by  the  freshmen  themselves 
whose  tongues  had  been  loosened  by  his  example.  Thus 
pleasantly  passed  the  time,  while  the  freshmen  were  keeping 
awake  and  warm  and  waiting  for  their  foe  to  come.  They 
had  almost  succeeded  in  forgetting  him,  when  the  paling 
east  recalled  them  to  a  sense  of  the  serious  business  on  hand. 

James  called  for  attention.  "Within  the  hour,  fellows, 
the  sophs  will  be  on  us,  and  we  must  prepare  to  meet  them. 
As  you  know,  they  will  come  over  the  hill  and  swoop 
down  on  us.  All  the  advantage  of  ground  will  be  with 
them.  We  could  lay  for  them  at  the  top,  and  fall  down  on 
them,  but  we  mustn't  leave  our  number.  No,  we  must  stay 
by  the  number,  even  though  it  gives  them,  the  advantage  of 
ground.  We  can  beat  them  if  we  want  to,  hard  enough  ! 
Remember  the  first  rush  !  You  know  the  plan  —  two 
squares,  the  outer  one  to  swing  round  the  attack  and  try  to 
keep  it  moving  down  the  hill,  the  inner  one  to  stay  as  long 
as  possible  to  guard  the  number. ' '  A  rumbling  cheer  of 
approval  meets  James'  remarks. 

"  We'll  do  'em,  all  right,  this  trip." 


1 62         For  the  Blue  and  Gold 


Places  were  then  assigned,  with  an  outpost  to  herald 
the  enemy's  approach.  The  squares  were  such  in  name  only, 
as  the  fourth  side  of  each  one,  that  side  facing  the  bottom  of 
the  hill,  had  been  left  out.  This  was  the  formation  : 


Number 


It  seemed  an  age  to  the  tensely  waiting  freshmen  since 
the  Library  clock  had  struck  five.  It  was  beginning  to  get 
cold.  Rush-fright  seized  upon  the  chilly  limbs,  almost  as 
bad  as  during  the  wait  before  the  first  rush.  It  was  so  uncer- 
tain. What  were  the  sophs  up  to  ?  How  many  would  they 
have  ?  But  hark  !  The  alert  sense  caught  a  rustling  noise 
down  below.  The  outpost  echoes  back  a  warning  whistle. 
''Steady,  boys,  they're  coming,"  is  the  word.  Presently 
the  outpost  comes  scurrying  back.  "  It  sounds  like  a 
million  of  them.  They're  coming  around  from  the  other 
side  of  the  creek. ' ' 

"  Give  them  all  their  time,  boys,"  cautions  James, 
who  stands  before  the  outer  square.  In  a  few  minutes  the 
nearer  sentries  come  scampering  back.  "They're  not  so 
many,  but  they're  armed  ! " 

"Oh,  that  Percy!  He  told  them  what  to  bring  for 
the  number. ' ' 

Now  for  a  few  moments  the  rush-fright  takes  a  harder 
grip.  Then  just  as  the  Library  clock  echoes  six  the  sopho- 
more class-yell  breaks  out,  and  they  gain  the  brow  of  the 
hill,  a  compact,  scrambling  mass. 


Trouble   on   the   Hill  163 


"  Now,  steady,  boys, let  them  come."  With  no  pause 
for  breath,  they  are  down,  with  an  impetuous  rush  ;  sixty 
picked  sophomores,  led  by  three  members  of  the  varsity 
football  team,  including  Percy. 

On,  in  a  wedge-like  mass,  they  come  at  the  square 
formation,  throwing  forward  hatchets,  hammers  and  cold 
chisels,  so  as  to  leave  hands  free.  But  it  is  a  square  no 
longer,  for,  in  time  with  the  sophomore  movement,  the 
outer  square  has  spread  out  like  a  whirling  lasso,  and,  clear 
of  the  number,  is  encircling  the  sophomore  advance.  The 
latter  see  the  movement  too  late  to  check  their  speed. 
Crash  !  They  come  together.  The  sophomores,  with 
superior  impetus,  tumble  whatever  they  strike  over  like 
nine-pins  and  themselves  roll  over  on  top,  everybody 
clutching  at  the  long  grass. 

But  now,  Crash  !  again,  and  the  sophomores  get 
some  of  it  themselves,  for  there  are  thirty  impetuous  fresh- 
men on  top  of  them.  With  this  last  impact,  the  whole 
mass  begins  to  roll  down- hill. 

Pushing,  struggling,  grasping  at  the  long  grass,  only 
to  pull  it  up  by  the  roots,  with  muffled  cries  of  rage  and 
pain,  they  start  down  the  backbone  of  the  knoll,  away  from 
the  number,  straight  for  the  tank.  Just  what  the  freshmen 
had  hoped  for.  At  a  little  crevice  half-way  down,  some  of 
the  sophomores  catch  and  try  to  hold  on,  but  the  freshmen 
push  and  grab  for  dear  life.  Out  of  the  exigencies  of  the 
conflict,  the  policy  of  each  has  unconsciously  shaped  itself. 
The  freshman  idea  is  to  get  their  adversaries  down  the  hill 
and  keep  them  there.  The  sophomores  realize  this  inten- 
tion and  try  vigorously  to  combat  it.  But  that  last  fresh- 
man impact  has  been  too  much  for  the  equilibrium,  and  the 


164         For  the  Blue  and  Gold 


sophomores,  between  two  layers  of  freshmen,  are  being 
pulled  and  pushed  to  the  bottom. 

"Say,  stop  pulling  my  leg,  you  freshman  !  "  A  kick, 
and  the  freshman  is  dislodged,  but  he  takes  a  shoe  with  him, 
and  is  back  for  the  other. 

"Let  go  my  hair,  blast  you,  you're  pulling  it  out  !" 
snorts  Finley. 

' c  Ought  to  have  used  some  hair  tonic  before  you  came 
into  this  !  "  pants  George. 

As  they  approached  the  level  ground  at  the  bottom,  the 
engagement  spreads  out,  and  the  contest  becomes  more 
individual.  Now  the  tying  up  is  to  begin.  The  freshmen's 
numerical  superiority  here  has  effect.  They  have  learned 
by  dear  experience  that  it  takes  at  least  two  to  tie  a  man  up, 
and  now  do  their  best  to  cooperate  with  one  another.  The 
juniors  are  hopping  about,  offering  rope  and  advice. 

Now  the  space  about  the  tank  is  thickly  studded  with 
small  groups  of  struggling,  squirming  combatants.  There 
is  slugging,  wrestling,  pulling,  hauling,  mingled  with  cries, 
grunts,  curses,  and  expostulations.  The  juniors  dance 
around,  waving  their  rope  and  urging  on  the  freshmen. 

George  is  performing  prodigies  of  tying.  Now  he  is 
kneeling  right  on  the  "  C  "  sweater  of  a  football  tackle, 
trying  to  bind  his  arms  up,  while  two  other  freshmen  sit  on 
the  victim's  feet.  "  Git  off  my  stomach,  blank  you  !  " 

"Your  stomach  isn't  there.  Quick,  Jack,  more 
rope!"  and  George,  panting,  pulls  his  victim's  arms 
together. 

"  Hammer-lock  him  !     Hammer-lock  him  !  " 

"  Help,  Tom ! "  calls  the  sophomore  to  another  near 
him.  Tom  throws  his  man  off  and  launches  himself  at 


Trouble   on   the   Hill  165 


George,  but  the  third  freshman  is  on  Tom  like  the  old  man 
of  the  sea,  and  off  he  conies.  Soon  George's  victim  is  tied 
up,  arms  and  legs,  and  they  roll  him  over  to  the  tank  like  a 
log.  Now  they  rush  upon  Tom  and  he  is  soon  out  of  it. 
The  freshman  majority  amounts  to  a  third  of  the  sopho- 
more's force.  These  extra  twenty  men,  by  skilfully  doub- 
ling up,  are  deciding  the  combat.  The  number  of  logs  over 
by  the  tank  quickly  grows  when  it  once  gets  started,  and 
now  the  freshmen  have  a  small  guard  to  spare  to  prevent 
any  untying. 

Percy  and  Charlie  Boyce  are  amongst  the  untied. 
They  happen  to  be  on  the  edge  of  the  fight,  and,  having 
corralled  little  Robbins,  are  making  short  work  of  him. 
"It's  all  up  with  us,"  whispers  Boyce. 

"  Yep.  Let's  make  a  sneak,  and  take  a  whack  at  the 
number  while  we  can." 

"Good."  They  dart  off,  dodging  into  the  gully  and 
clambering  out  of  the  upper  end.  Robbins  rolls  himself 
over  to  some  busy  freshmen.  "  Quick,  untie  me,  fellows  !  " 
He  stands  up,  looking  wildly  around  for  James.  Whose  is 
that  tall  form  up  on  the  hill?  Rawson's  !  Now  he  bends 
over  and  lifts  something  up.  Have  they  got  at  the 
number  ? 

Robbins  darts  up  the  other  side  of  the  knoll  after 
Percy  and  Boyce.  They  are  nearly  up,  and  now  they 
divide  and  come  at  James  from  opposite  sides.  He  sees 
them,  and,  quickly  placing  his  captive  on  the  ground,  gives 
him  a  sharp  roll  down.  Over  and  over  he  goes,  bumping 
and  wriggling.  But  nobody  has  time  to  watch  him. 

Percy  makes  a  cautious  approach  upon  James,  grinning 
maliciously.  He  hopes  that  the  latter  will  plunge  at  him, 


1 66         For  the   Blue   and  Gold 


when  they  would  both  roll  down  and  leave  Boyce  to  finish 
the  number.  No,  James  divines  the  ruse  and  stands  waiting, 
wiggling  his  finger  inelegantly  at  his  friend.  Percy, 
cautiously  nearing,  makes  a  sudden  jump  for  James'  feet  and 
grasps  him  about  the  ankles.  James  doubles  up  on  him 
like  a  jack-knife.  No,  they  are  not  going  to  roll.  ' '  Quick, 
Charlie,  we'll  tie  him  up,"  pants  Percy  from  underneath. 
Boyce  pounces  upon  Rawson,  completing  the  sandwich,  in 
which  James  is  the  meat.  Now  they  begin  to  struggle 
mightily.  James'  long  arms  and  legs  lash  and  curl  in  all 
directions  to  prevent  their  rolling  him  down.  And  he  does. 
He  begins  to  roll  them  sideways  instead.  Percy  is  trying 
to  grasp  James  by  the  arms  so  that  Boyce  can  tie  his  feet. 
Clothes  rip  and  tear  into  shreds  unnoticed.  Rawson  has 
never  exerted  his  strength  like  this  before,  and  Percy,  himself 
with  muscles  of  steel,  has  had  no  conception  of  such  power. 

"Ouch,  my  ribs,"  groans  Boyce,  as,  for  the  second 
time,  he  feels  the  freshman's  force.  James,  with  a  desperate 
struggle,  has  worked  him  off  and  crushed  him  down  on 
Percy.  The  freshman  is  no  longer  the  meat,  but  the  upper 
layer  of  bread  ! 

* '  Kiss  and  be  friends, ' '  he  pants.  With  his  long  arms 
he  manages  to  encircle  their  struggling  forms,  and  he  winds 
his  legs  about  their  limbs  like  a  creeping  vine. 

'  *  But  what  shall  I  do  with  them  now  ?  And  some- 
body may  be  getting  at  the  number  ! ' ' 

"  Here,  Jim,  rope,  quick  !  "  feverishly  pants  little 
Robbins,  kneeling  down.  James  does  not  lift  his  head  from 
where  it  is  boring  into  the  small  of  Boyce's  back. 

"A  noose,  under  them,"  he  gasps. 

' '  Oh  !     I  haven't  enough,' '  cries  Robbins. 


Trouble   on   the  Hill  167 


"  In  my  pocket,"  pants  James. 

With  trembling  fingers  Robbins  knots  the  two  lengths 
together,  and  forces  the  loop  down  beneath  Percy's  shoul- 
ders, then  over  them,  grating  the  skin  from  James'  nose  in 
his  endeavor  to  get  the  rope  between  the  latter  and  his 
captives. 

"  Pull  tight." 

Robbins  braces  his  foot  on  Boyce's  shoulder-blade  and 
pulls  his  best.  Then  James  slips  out  one  arm  and  completes 
the  job.  In  a  like  manner,  but  with  more  difficulty,  the 
squirming  feet  are  bound,  and  James  jumps  up  just  as  some 
freshmen,  who  have  noticed  the  struggle,  come  running  to 
his  assistance. 

"Hooray  !  Look  at  the  Siamese  twins  !  "  he  shouts, 
and  dances  before  the  two,  bound  together  in  tight  embrace. 
They  keep  silence. 

"Robbins,  you're  a  dandy,"  he  exclaims,  turning  to 
his  assistant,  and  gripping  him  hard.  Even  with  the  pain 
in  his  finger-joints  Robbins  beams  his  satisfaction. 

Now  follow  explanations  of  how  it  all  came  to  happen. 
Robbins  explains  his  appearance,  James  his  presence  up  by 
the  number :  ' '  Well,  you  see,  I  was  down  with  the  rest  of 
you,  trying  to  tie  a  chap  up,  when  another  soph  grabs  me, 
and  this  first  one  breaks  away.  Up  the  hill  he  scoots,  and  I 
saw  what  he  was  up  to.  I  managed  to  shake  the  other  one 
off,  and  was  up  after  the  first.  We  had  a  great  old  tie-up  up 
there  right  by  the  number,  and  I  was  just  for  carrying  him 
down  when  I  saw  those  two  coming,  and  I  had  to  give  him 
a  roll  for  his  health.  Hope  he's  all  right." 

"Yes,  and  we've  got  the  whole  push  tied  up  down 
there." 


1 68         For  the  Blue   and  Gold 


Percy  and  Boyce  were  packed  down  to  join  their  class- 
mates. It  was  in  truth  a  comical  sight  !  Lining  the  tank, 
were  two  layers  of  sophomores,  tied  arms  and  feet.  Some 
were  sullen,  others  were  taking  it  good-naturedly.  There 
was  many  a  scratched  nose  and  cheek  among  them,  and 
not  a  few  black  eyes  were  beginning  to  show.  Likewise  a 
bloody  nose  or  so  was  still  dripping  its  gory  tribute  to  King 
Rush.  And  their  clothes  !  Pajamas  showed  where  trousers' 
legs  had  been  wrenched  off.  Coats  were  minus  sleeves  and 
were  ripped  up  the  back.  There  were  going  to  be  some 
scared  mammas  if  these  sophomores  did  not  manage  to  get 
into  their  rooms  unobserved.  But,  for  that  matter,  the 
freshmen  were  no  better  off  than  the  others  in  the  matter  of 
bruises,  abrasions  and  wrecked  wearing  apparel. 

But  what  mattered  that  ?  The  day  was  won !  And 
they  danced  around  their  captives  like  wild  Indians,  yelling 
and  singing.  James  was  anxious  to  get  home,  so  after  a 
while  he  managed  to  calm  his  exuberant  classmates. 
Terms  of  parole  were  arranged  with  the  sophomore  leader, 
and  the  number  was  safe,  the  glory  and  pride  of  the  fresh- 
man class  and  the  admiration  of  the  charter  day  visitors. 

Shortly  after  seven  James  arrived  at  Mrs.  Saunders'. 
That  worthy  matron  looked  at  his  nose  quizzically,  but  said 
naught.  On  arising  she  had  gone  out  to  the  porch  to  see 
what  number  was  on  the  hill. 


CHAPTER   XII 
"Drill  Te   Carriers 


11  Say,  Jim,  I've  got  the  heart  disease.  I'm  going  to 
join  the  signal  corpse." 

"  Cold  in  the  feet,  the  feet,  the  feet,  hey  ?  " 

"Yep,  that  must  be  it,"  admitted  Percy,  laughing. 
But,  just  the  same,  I  got  a  transfer,  and  today  I  drill  with  a 
saber." 

"I  envy  you.  Isn't  there  some  way  of  my  getting  out 
of  the  rear  rank  of  G?" 

"Can't  give  you  any  encouragement, "  replied  Percy, 
holding  up  his  chin.  '  *  The  ranks  are  full  now.  But  you 
might  get  a  job  on  the  artillery,  pulling  the  cannon." 

"I'd  rather  have  a  job  pulling  the  lieut's  leg." 

"You  can't.  That's  reserved  for  the  commissioned 
officers  —  or  those  about  to  be. ' ' 

"I  have  it,"  exclaimed  Percy.  "Pull  the  lieut's  leg 
for  a  permanent  excuse  on  account  of  that  mashed  finger  of 
yours  that  you  got  in  the  game.  Tell  him  you  can't  hold 
your  gun  properly." 

"I'll  try  it."  James  brightened  up.  He  held  out  his 
bad  finger,  and  examined  it  critically. 

"Try  to  get  it  so  that  it'll  wiggle  like  it  was  out  of 
joint, ' '  suggested  Percy.  ' '  Or  you  might  chew  some  chalk, 
so  as  to  get  your  tongue  coated  white,  and  go  up  to  the  Doc 
He'll  ask  to  see  your  tongue  first.  Jack  Maginnis  worked 


For  the   Blue  and  Gold 


that  fake.  Or  you  might  smoke  perique  all  night,  and 
work  up  a  tobacco  heart.  Anyhow  the  football  push  ought 
to  get  permanent  excuses  from  drill.  Don't  we  do  enough 
for  the  college  without  chasing  ourselves  around  the  campus 
two  hours  a  week  for  three  years  ?  Why  do  they  only  give 
us  a  measly  few  weeks  during  the  football  season?  It 
ain't  right.  We  ought  to  get  permanent  excuse  from  drill 
and  gym." 

"I  wouldn't  mind  gym,  but  drill  somehow  won't 
go  down, "  sighed  James.  "  I'm  so  hanged  awkward.  My 
captain  said  the  lieut  was  onto  me,  and  wanted  to  know  why 
I  was  drilling  in  the  rear  rank,  half  a  head  taller  than  the 
fellow  in  front.  He  told  the  lieut  that  I  took  too  long  steps 
in  the  front  rank,  and  had  to  have  a  fellow  before  me. " 

"  I  wouldn't  like  to  be  the  fellow.  Bet  his  heels  are 
raw." 

"Say,  just  look  how  it's  clouding  up,"  broke  in 
George.  "  Maybe  it'll  rain  before  11:15." 

"Hope  springs  eternal  in  the  human  breast." 

* '  Fond  one,  didst  ever  know  it  to  rain  on  Monday  or 
Wednesday  mornings  ? ' ' 

"Can't  say  that  I  did,  but  that's  no  reason  why  it 
won't." 

From  which  it  may  be  inferred  that  our  three  friends 
were  not  overjoyed  at  having  to  don  a  blue  uniform  twice  a 
week,  and,  shouldering  a  gun,  play  tin  soldier,  tramping  up 
and  down  the  dusty  campus.  But  it  had  to  be  done,  if  one 
could  not  find  an  outlet,  such  as  has  just  been  discussed. 
Drill  earns  five  units  of  credits,  and  these  are  required  for 
graduation.  Nor  were  the  three  alone  in  their  disaffection. 


IT 

€ 

« 

i 

o 


"Drill  Te    Tarriers"  171 


There  is  scarce  a  student  in  college  who  drills  cheerfully,  or 
takes  drill  seriously.  Exceptions  are  those  who  covet  the 
tinsel  and  power  of  the  commissioned  officer.  The  fresh- 
men, too,  start  in  with  well-meant  enthusiasm.  If  you 
listen  to  a  group  of  first  term  freshmen  lunching  under  the 
trees  after  drill  you  will  hear  nothing  but  military  talk. 
"Our  captain  says  so  and  so,"  or  "my  corporal  is  a  false 
alarm  and  couldn't  drill  a  hole,"  or  "  you  can't  pull  the  leg 
of  Company  H's  first  sergeant."  It  is  sometimes  asserted 
that  the  freshmen  companies  drill  better  than  the  sopho- 
more. It  is  the  usual  thing  for  a  freshman  company  to 
carry  off  the  honors  at  the  annual  inspection. 

"  But  say,  Jim,"  continues  George,  "do  you  remem- 
ber that  long  time  ago,  almost  eight  months  back,  when  we 
freshmen  lined  up  for  the  first  time?  " 

1  *  That  I  do,  for  it  was  a  mighty  uncomfortable  hour. 
There  were  the  seniors  marching  up  and  down,  joshing  us 
for  further  orders,  and  telling  us  how  the  sophs  were  going 
to  chew  us  up.  They  were  looking  us  over  for  big 
men,  too.  And  there  were  the  cripples — lots  of  sophs 
didn't  drill  that  day — a-sizing  us  up  for  rush  purposes. 
That  was  their  first  chance  to  see  us  all  together,  lined  up. 
Too  bad,  Percy  here  missed  that." 

' '  Yes,  you'  d  ought  to  have  heard  the  seniors  calling  to 
Jim,  here  :  '  Take  your  thumb  out  of  your  mouth,  little 
freshie,'  and  Jim  didn't  know  what  to  do  with  his  hands. 
Then  they  yelled  out :  '  Freshies,  you'll  need  nipples  on 
your  canteens,  freshies  ! '  When  they  got^  through  sorting 
us  by  sizes,  with  Jim  at  one  end  of  the  line  and  me  at  the 
other,  they  counted  us,  and  a  soph  up  and  braced  the 
officer,  '  How  many  ?  '  He  went  back  whistling." 


172         For  the  Blue  and  Gold 


"But  we  did  you  just  the  same,  freshman." 

" Oh,  I  don't  know.     How  about  the  hill  rush  ? ' ' 

* '  The  real  fun  began  when  the  corporals  got  us  out  in 
squads,  without  guns,  to  teach  us  the  facings." 

"  Our  squad  with  all  the  big  galoots  in  it  went  right 
down  in  front  of  North  Hall  where  there  were  a  lot  of 
co-eds  eating  lunch  under  the  trees.  The  corporal  ordered 
'  right  about  face ; '  half  of  us  turned  off  in  one  direction, 
the  rest  in  another.  How  the  co-eds  giggled.  And  the 
corporal  grew  so  polite. ' ' 

"Well,  there  are  others.  Didn't  E's  first  lieutenant 
shout  '  Rights  forward ;  fours  left?  '  " 

"Yes,  and  wasn't  he  hot  when  the  fellows  started  to  do 
it ?  He  didn't  know  how  to  get  them  back  again. " 

'  *  He  might  have  dismissed  them,  and  then  ordered, 
'  Company  assemble,'  as  I  heard  a  guy  did  once." 

"Stow  your  chin,  there,  it's  11:15 — and  all's  dry. 
Get  ye  to  the  Armory  for  your  pieces. " 

Down  in  the  locker-room  the  city  students  are  violating 
the  proprieties,  wildly  struggling  into  their  tight,  blue 
trousers.  Freshmen,  however,  excepted.  They  usually 
wear  their  military  trousers  home  to  the  city.  That  is  one 
way  they  have  of  telling  a  freshman  on  the  boat  Mondays 
and  Wednesdays. 

The  bugle  rings  out  sharply  in  the  bracing,  early  April 
air,  and  the  white-gloved  cadets,  guns  in  hand,  are  dodging 
hither  and  thither  in  the  space  between  North  and  South 
Halls  and  the  JJbrary,  each  heading  for  his  company. 
Important-looking  officers  strut  up  and  down.  Seniors, 
cripples  and  co-eds  lounge  about  on  their  several  steps, 
reveling  in  the  luxury  of  the  state  of  non-combatant. 


"Drill  Ye   T'arriers"  173 


Sight-seeing  townspeople  are  beginning  to  arrive,  and  fond 
parents  and  relatives  of  students  come  panting  up  the 
campus  from  the  eleven  train,  to  feast  their  eyes  on  Tom, 
Dick,  or  Harry,  standing  up  so  straight  and  marching  so 
fine.  Now  follows  a  period  of  unrest  for  Tom,  Dick,  or 
Harry,  who,  in  a  moment  of  weakness,  has  invited  all  the 
family  over  to  witness  the  drill.  "  See,  see,  there  is  Tom! " 
cries  little  brother  Johnny  in  delight.  "Is  his  gun  loaded, 
mamma?  Will  I  be  like  that  some  day,  mamma?"  and 
the  folks  try  to  catch  Tom's  eye  for  a  smile  of  recognition, 
while  Tom  is  turning  red  around  the  collar,  and  his 
companions  whisper  "  Don't  let  it  go  off,  Tommy." 

Soon  the  eight  companies  are  marching  in  different 
directions,  each  to  its  appointed  place  on  the  campus.  Or 
perhaps  it  is  a  battalion  drill,  when  they  all  gather  down  on 
the  gridiron.  Down  under  the  trees  the  band  is  practicing 
a  new  tune,  and  up  between  North  and  South  Halls  the 
signal  corps,  that  last  resort  of  the  "  bum  "  who  can  not  get 
out  of  drill,  is  listlessly  wigwagging  signals  derogatory  to 
its  officers  or  otherwise  irrelevant,  immaterial,  and  incompe- 
tent. 

However,  everybody  is  now  taking  a  last  brace, 
preparatory  to  the  annual  inspection,  with  its  competitive 
drill  by  companies.  Captains  of  sophomore  and  junior 
companies  are  endeavoring  to  work  up  lagging  company 
spirit,  and  are,  in  a  way,  succeeding,  for  the  rivalry  of  com- 
petition, and  pride  besides,  is  bracing  up  even  the  juniors, 
who  now  count  the  days  that  will  let  them,  out  of  drill  for 
good,  and  figure  on  how  much  a  shiny  uniform  will  bring. 
They  do  not  want  to  be  out-drilled  by  the  freshmen,  yet  it 
begins  to  look  that  way.  Another  sign  of  the  hour  is  the 


174         For   the   Blue   and  Gold 


prevalence  of  Upton's  Tactics,  now  in  great  demand  by 
ambitious  freshmen  and  sophomores  who  are  going  to  stand 
the  examination  for  corporals  and  sergeants.  Military  talk 
is  in  the  air  once  more  as  it  was  at  the  beginning  of  the  year. 

And  spring  is  in  the  air,  too.  The  second  college  term 
is  on  the  wane,  and  the  student  body  is  gathering  itself 
together  for  the  last  two  intercollegiate  contests  of  the 
year  —  field  day  and  debate  —  which  both  occur  on  the 
same  day,  the  last  Saturday  in  April. 

' '  Field  day  is  a  pipe ' '  is  the  opinion  universally  held 
at  California.  "It's  only  a  question  of  how  large  a  score 
we  will  pile  up."  Traditions  and  prestige  are  all  in  favor  of 
U.  C.,  also  athletic  material  and  methods  of  training. 
Preps  who  have  made  a  good  beginning  at  track  athletics 
come  to  California,  likewise  those  whose  inclination  runs 
strongly  in  this  direction.  They  want  to  be  on  the  side 
that  can  show  them  most,  train  them  best,  and,  above  all, 
on  the  side  that  is  going  to  win. 

Down  on  the  cinder  path,  morning,  noon  and  evening, 
are  sparsely  clad,  bare-legged  athletes  — sprinters,  hurdlers, 
distance  runners,  mile  walkers,  pole-vaulters,  jumpers 
and  weight  men.  The  squad  numbers  fully  seventy -five 
aspirants,  and  even  if  they  be  not  all  chosen,  the  exercise  is 
doing  them  good.  Many  of  the  football  men  are  there,  for 
some  there  be  for  whom  one  kind  of  game  is  not  enough, 
nor  hardly  three,  including  baseball.  Percy  is  trying  his 
hand  at  the  pole-vault  and  broad  jump.  This  is  his  first 
attempt,  but  he  is  promising  material.  Evans  has  endeav- 
ored to  initiate  James  into  the  intricacies  of  the  hammer 
throw,  but  the  latter  is  not  eager.  "One  branch  of 
athletics  is  glory  enough  for  me,"  he  declares,  although 


"Drill  Te    Tarriers"  175 


nearly  every  evening  he  is  out  loping  around  the  track,  or 
leaping  the  high  hurdles,  "just  to  let  off  steam."  This 
latter  performance,  to  the  great  amusement  of  the  onlookers, 
and  the  profit  of  the  Blue  and  Gold  photographer. 

Down  in  the  Occident  office  gathers  the  "debating 
push,"  speculating  on  the  composition  of  the  team,  and  on 
the  propositions  in  the  question.  Windom,  the  chairman  of 
the  debating  committee,  is  oracle,  and  dilates  hilariously  on 
how  surprised  the  Stanford  team  will  be,  the  night  of  the 
debate,  to  find  the  full  significance  of  their  own  question. 
California  has  had  the  choice  of  sides,  and  Stanford  is  com- 
mitted to  proving  the  practicability  of  a  theoretical  means  of 
goverment  reform — a  hard  task,  as  every  debater  knows. 

The  last  Saturday  in  April  finally  went  out  in  a  blaze  of 
blue  and  gold.  Out  on  the  fog-swept  cinder  path  near 
Golden  Gate  Park,  events  went  to  California  with  such 
regularity  from  the  first  pistol  crack,  that  finally  the  rooters 
grew  wearied.  Stanford,  hoping  against  hope  for  the  tie 
that  the  Sequoia's  athletic  editor  had  figured  out,  trotted 
forth  her  carefully  guarded  "phenom"  for  the  quarter, 
only  to  see  him  wilt  in  the  heart-breaking  finish.  While 
his  friends  on  the  track  were  getting  in  their  work,  Evans, 
out  in  midfield,  whirling  like  a  dervish,  was  breaking  the 
coast  record  for  the  hammer  throw,  and  Percy  was  taking  a 
second  in  the  pole-vault.  At  the  end  the  Blue  and  Gold 
rooters  burst  forth  like  a  torrent,  while  the  Cardinals  crept 
silently  away  —  score,  82  to  32. 

Down  town  at  Metropolitan  Hall,  one  had  to  come 
early  to  get  a  seat  for  the  annual  intercollegiate  debate. 
This  is  about  the  only  opportunity  of  the  year  that  San 
Francisco  has  for  estimating  what  sort  of  intellectual  product 


ij6         For  the  Blue  and  Gold 


she  is  getting  for  the  money  that  is  going  into  the  State 
University.  On  which  point  there  is  great  curiosity  abroad, 
not  untinged  with  skepticism  in  certain  quarters.  The 
debate  is  a  potent  agent  for  the  removal  of  this  latter.  For 
it  is  an  enlightening  spectacle,  that  of  these  six  young  men, 
in  dress  suits,  upon  the  rostrum,  pouring  forth,  in  good 
English,  arguments  generally  sane,  which  bespeak  an 
acquaintance  with  those  larger  underlying  principles  that 
the  educated  man  takes  cognizance  of  in  forming  his 
opinion. 

One  side  of  the  gallery  is  already  filled  with  California 
rooters.  A  section  down  stairs  is  red  with  those  from 
Stanford.  The  rest  of  the  hall,  to  its  utmost  limit,  rapidly 
fills  up  with  partisans,  friends  and  the  "public." 

There  is  much  mutual  joshing  before  the  debate,  inter- 
spersed with  yelling. 

Ha!     Ha!    Ha! 
Call  —  for  —  nia! 
U.  C.  Berkeley ! 
Zip !     Boom !    Ah  ! 

Conies  from  the  gallery  at  the  yell  leader's  signal,  and 
the  very  beams  shake.  Quickly  is  flung  back  a  sharp  : 

Rah!  Rah!  Rah! 
Rah!  Rah!  Rah! 
Rah!  Rah! 
Stanford ! 

By  the  time  the  first  four  speakers  have  finished,  the 
difference  between  the  two  teams  is  clearly  marked. 
Stanford's  representatives  excel  their  rivals  in  oratory — in 
neat  phrases  and  figures,  in  eloquence,  in  fire.  Their  two 


"Drill  Ye   Tarriers"  177 


speeches  have  each  been  effective  efforts,  but  similar  in 
their  style  and  argument.  They  have  appealed  somewhat 
to  the  popular  prejudices  on  the  subject,  and  argued  with 
rather  more  ardor  than  soundness.  California's  speakers 
are  logicians  of  a  high  order.  The  first,  calm,  suave, 
convincing,  points  out  what  he  and  his  colleagues  expect  to 
do,  and  also  some  of  the  points  they  will  require  their 
opponents  to  defend.  He  then  proceeds  to  establish  a  few 
simple  propositions  relied  on  by  the  negative.  The  second 
speaker  impresses  one  equally  by  his  solid  scholarship  and 
his  ease  of  manner.  He  continues  the  negative  argument 
so  clearly  that  people  wonder  how  any  one  could  disagree 
with  him  ;  then,  with  relentless  logic,  he  points  out  the 
absurdities,  the  inconsistencies,  and  the  omissions,  in  the 
Stanford  argument.  Analyzing  their  position  carefully,  he 
shows  that  it  involves  much  more  than  one  might  suppose, 
and  imposes  on  them  a  burden  of  proof  that  staggers  all  by 
its  immensity. 

Stanford  is  not  dismayed,  having  great  faith  in  her  last 
speaker.  He,  like  his  colleagues,  is  an  orator,  but  an  orator 
uniting  much  homely  common  sense,  keen  wit,  and  cogent 
argument  with  his  eloquence.  He  ridicules  the  California 
argument  as  an  attempt  to  make  him  defend  a  "universal 
affirmative  of  every  question  that  was  ever  discussed  in 
politics."  Instead,  he  narrows  the  question  skilfully, 
claiming  that  the  negative  has  left  one  gap  in  which  he  can 
insert  the  match  which  will  explode  its  whole  argument. 

California's  last  speaker,  Clarkson,  who  combines  the 
logical  skill  of  his  colleagues  with  the  earnestness  and  force 
of  his  opponents,  can  scarce  wait  for  the  Stanford  applause 
to  subside.  He  springs  to  the  center  of  the  stage  and 


1 78         For  the   Blue  and  Gold 


proceeds  literally  to  tear  the  arguments  of  his  opponents 
into  shreds.  He  completes  the  argument  left  unfinished  by 
his  colleagues,  and  then  reviews  the  whole  debate  so  as  to 
show  that,  while  his  opponents  have  left  the  greater  part  of 
the  question  without  any  argument  at  all,  the  little  argu- 
ment they  have  advanced  is  worthless,  when  tried  by  their 
own  test.  As  he  finishes  the  audience  rises  and  cheers  him  to 
the  echo,  for  they  know  that,  although  Stanford's  first  speaker 
has  ten  minutes  to  reply,  he  can  do  nothing  after  Clarkson's 
terrible  smashes.  A  slim  young  man,  seated  off  in  a  corner 
of  the  hall,  tugs  restlessly  at  his  mustache.  His  is  the  fine 
Italian  hand  that  raises  up  a  little  band  of  skilled  debaters 
every  year  from  whom  the  teams  are  chosen.  And  a  dozen 
or  so  of  juniors  and  seniors  scattered  about  through  the  hall 
smile  contentedly  ;  they  are  the  ''scrubs"  whose  compe- 
tition has  kept  Clarkson  and  his  team-mates  at  their 
best  —  the  anvil  on  which  the  team  has  been  hammered  out. 

So  it  is  that,  before  the  judges  leave  their  seats,  the 
majority  of  the  audience  has  settled  upon  the  decision. 
When  the  learned  three  return  in  a  few  moments  and  the 
spokesman,  advancing  to  the  front,  begins  a  long-winded 
speech,  the  suspense  is,  nevertheless,  intense,  although  the 
shortness  of  the  judges'  absence  had  made  it  more  certain 
for  California.  The  speaker  plays  with  the  audience  as  a 
cat  with  a  mouse.  Slowly  he  tells  of  the  gratification  that 
they  all  should  feel  at  the  splendid  exhibition  of  mentality 
that  has  been  placed  before  them.  It  has  been  hard  to 
decide  which  side  has  made  the  better  showing.  But,  con- 
sidering, not  the  justice  of  one  side  or  the  other,  but  simply 
the  points  made,  it  has  seemed  to  them 

' '  California  wins.     Ha  !     Ha  !     Ha  ! " 


"Drill  Te    Carriers"  179 


Pandemonium  breaks  loose,  fit  to  shake  the  reeds  out 
of  the  large  organ. 

"  Say,  fellows,  I  hear  that  Stanford  won  tennis/' 

"  We'll  give  it  to  'em.  Funny  josh,  though,  isn't  it? 
Strong  man's  college  to  lose  football  and  win  tennis  —  the 
co-eds' game.  Ha!  Ha!" 

"Well,  this  winds  up  the  account  for  this  year  —  not  a 
bad  one  for  dear  old  California  —  hey,  Jim  ? ' ' 

"  We  could  have  done  worse." 


CHAPTER  XIII 
Bourdon 


Bourdon  !  The  freshman's  last  chance  to  distinguish 
himself;  to  overcome  the  machinations  of  his  hereditary 
enemy  ;  to  send  his  class  out  of  its  freshmanhood  and  up  to 
sophomority  in  a  blaze  of  glory.  Bourdon  !  The  sopho- 
more's last  chance  to  bait  the  freshman  ;  to  turn  to  naught 
the  latter' s  strenuous  endeavors  to  burn  his  Minto  and 
Bourdon  (those  tormentors  of  freshman  English  and  math), 
in  a  manner  grander  and  less  interrupted  than  had  been 
vouchsafed  to  him  (the  sophomore)  the  year  previous. 

As  Bourdon  prex  James  found  a  multitude  of  affairs 
resting  on  his  shoulders.  He  had  had  the  appointment  of 
officials  for  that  ceremony,  and  of  an  executive  committee 
to  conduct  it,  of  which  he  was  chairman.  The  final  exes 
were  fast  approaching,  and  he  could  ill  spare  the  time  to 
attend  the  numerous  committee  meetings  for  the  disposal 
of  details,  and  the  equally  numerous  trips  to  Oakland  to 
arrange  for  paraphernalia.  "  This  is  no  snap,  being  Bourdon 
prex, ' '  he  said  to  George.  But  once  in  it  he  was  bound  to 
see  it  through. 

The  trouble  began  when  the  invitations  were  issued  — 
a  grewsome  thing,  with  a  black  border  and  a  picture  of  a 
devil  standing  over  a  coffin,  pitchfork  in  hand.  It  was  for 
the  most  part  worded  in  dog  Latin.  Each  freshman  was  to 
get  some  to  send  to  his  friends.  The  sophomores  tried  to 


Bourdon  \  8 1 


get  them  so  as  to  have  burlesque  substitutes  printed  to  send 
to  their  friends. 

When  James  received  the  batch  from  the  printers,  he 
carried  it,  by  an  error  of  judgment,  up  to  North  Hall  and 
secreted  it  in  his  locker,  so  as  to  have  the  invitations  handy 
for  the  meeting.  He  thought  that  he  was  unobserved,  but 
Percy  had  spied  him  out.  An  hour  later  a  group  of  sopho- 
mores was  assembled  down  in  the  locker-room. 

"  Which  is  it,  Percy?" 

"That  upper  one,  there." 

A  short  length  of  scantling  was  produced,  and  the  lock 
quickly  knocked  off.  But  this  made  some  noise.  A  fresh- 
man was  attracted.  He  ran  like  a  hare,  shouting  a  rallying 
cry  :  "  Ninety  odd,  this  way  ;  ninety  odd  !  The  sophs  are 
at  the  lockers  !  " 

Some  freshmen  were  on  the  steps.  They  sprang  to 
their  feet.  Others  seemed  to  appear  from  all  sides  as  the 
cry  resounded:  "The  sophs  are  at  the  lockers."  All 
knew  in  a  moment  what  they  were  there  for.  James  was, 
by  chance,  coming  down  the  path  from  the  Library.  He 
started  off  on  a  run,  cramming  his  note-book  into  his  pocket. 

"  Quick,  Jim,  they're  at  the  invites  ! " 

He  worked  his  way  in  front  of  the  bunch  of  freshmen 
as  they  tumbled  down  into  the  locker- room,  shouting, 
* '  Some  of  you  go  around  the  front  way,  so  they  can' t  get  out. ' ' 

Percy,  standing  on  another's  back,  was  just  grasping 
the  coveted  package  when  the  freshmen  jumped  them  with 
a  savage  cry.  In  a  moment  they  were  in  a  fierce  mix-up. 
The  space  was  narrow,  and  as  they  slugged  and  struggled 
they  went  crashing  into  lockers,  breaking  the  panels  into 
splinters,  and  tumbling  out  books  and  uniforms. 


1 8  a         For  the   Blue  and  Gold 


'*  Rough  house  !  Rough  house  !  "  went  up  the  rallying 
cry,  and  freshmen  and  sophomores  came  reinforcing.  But 
the  original  attacking  party  of  freshmen  was  stronger  than 
the  locker  riflers,  and,  after  James  had  secured  the  bundle 
of  invitations,  they  worked  the  sophomores  out  toward  the 
front  door.  Here  the  other  freshmen  tackled  them,  and 
between  them  they  bustled  and  harried  the  sophomores  until 
the  latter  were  glad  to  escape  around  the  corner  of  North 
Hall.  Then,  forming  a  strong  body-guard  around  James,  the 
freshmen  conducted  their  invitations  down  the  campus  to  a 
place  of  safety.  That  year  the  sophomores  got  out  no 
mock  invitations.  Instead  they  used  their  money  to  pay 
for  repairing  damaged  lockers. 

"Now,  boys,  the  problem  is  to  get  that  coffin  and 
truck  safely  stowed  away  in  our  hiding-place  in  Berkeley 
without  the  sophs  getting  onto  us.  Once  we  are  in  the 
barn,  I  don't  suppose  that  we  can  keep  it  secret  from  them 
long.  Our  lay  then  will  be  to  have  such  a  strong  force  of 
defenders  on  guard  all  the  time  that  they  won't  be  able  to 
get  at  us.  That  is  the  easier  problem  of  the  two,  for  we 
will  then  have  the  whole  class  to  call  on,  whereas  now 
there  are  merely  the  ten  of  us  who  are  responsible  for 
getting  the  stuff  up  to  the  barn.  If  too  many  of  us  are 
seen  together,  they'll  be  on,  sure.  Strategy's  the  word." 

Thus  spoke  James  at  the  last  meeting  of  the  Bourdon 
committee.  It  was  the  day  before  the  event,  and  many 
things  were  to  be  done,  and  under  the  utmost  difficulties  at 
that.  The  sophomores  and  their  mentors,  the  seniors,  were 
developing  great  activity.  Scouting  parties  of  from  eight 
to  a  dozen  were  to  be  met  on  the  campus  and  streets  at 


Bourdon  183 


almost  every  turn.  Already  a  half  dozen  small  impromptu 
rushes  had  taken  place  between  these  scouting  parties  and  the 
freshmen,  in  which  the  latter  had  been  uniformly  victorious. 
For  their  whole  class  was  in  the  affair  to  do  or  die, —  it 
would  be  a  dreadful  stigma  to  permit  the  sophomores  to 
break  up  their  Bourdon.  While  the  number  of  the  latter 
who  were  interested  in  offensive  measures  was,  of  course, 
considerably  smaller,  yet  it  was  made  up  of  the  lustiest 
members  of  the  class  —  the  "rough  house  "  element,  fairly 
craving  for  a  mix-up,  and  was  by  no  means  to  be  despised. 
Percy  was  one  of  the  most  active  of  the  aggressors.  He 
was  bound  to  get  even  with  James  for  that  defeat  on  the  hill. 
After  dinner  that  evening,  in  a  drizzling  rain,  the  party 
of  freshmen  which  was  to  escort  the  coffin  and  stow  it  and 
the  truck  safely  away  in  the  barn  on  Telegraph  Avenue, 
started  singly,  by  roundabout  ways,  for  Oakland.  George 
got  away,  only  after  he  had,  by  strategy,  locked  Percy  in 
their  room.  James  went  cross-lots,  by  way  of  the  back 
fence,  to  the  astonishment  of  Mrs.  Saunders  and  the  disap- 
pointment of  Percy,  who,  having  jumped  out  of  his  window, 
was  waiting  behind  a  tree  across  the  street  from  Mrs. 
Saunders'.  Holland  had  had  to  go  over  to  San  Francisco 
that  afternoon  in  order  to  escape  the  hounding  of  his 
sophomore  frat  brothers.  They  all  managed  to  meet  at  the 
carpenter's  about  8  : 30.  Here  the  piece  de  resistance  —  a 
miniature  coffin  about  a  foot  and  a  half  long,  made  of  stout 
oak,  thoroughly  saturated  with  oil,  to  render  burning  swift 
and  certain,  was  handed  over  to  them  by  the  amused 
workman. 

" Who's  a-going  to  carry  this  here  parcel?  "  he  asked. 

They  pointed  to  James. 


For  the  Blue  and  Gold 


"I  thought  so.  Last  year's  fellows  did  the  same,  and 
nigh  lost  theirs.  Here,  you,"  addressing  James,  "take  a 
dummy  like  this,"  reaching  for  a  piece  of  board,  "cling  to 
it  for  dear  life,  while  we'll  give  the  real  thing  to  this  little 
man,"- indicating  Robbins.  "How's  that? " 

"That's  all  right.  But  now  we'll  have  to  cling  to 
Robbins." 

So  they  started  off  on  foot,  by  a  roundabout  way. 
Once  or  twice  they  came  across  single  students  whom  they 
recognized,  but  these  gave  the  determined-looking  party  a 
wide  berth.  Further  out  they  met  the  truck  with  its  four 
powerful  truck  horses.  In  the  bottom  were  the  loose 
boards,  cut  to  form  the  stand  from  which  the  speakers 
would  talk,  and  the  coffin  and  the  fireworks  be  burned. 
Soon  after  they  reached  the  barn  in  a  lot  off  Telegraph 
Avenue,  about  a  half  mile  from  the  university. 

'  *  Now  we're  safe,  for  the  time  being,  anyway. ' '  James 
heaved  a  sigh  of  relief.  "  Let's  bury  this  thing  first  off." 
They  deposited  the  coffin  in  an  inside  corner  of  the  barn, 
and  heaped  loose  hay  upon  and  around  it,  up  to  the  very 
rafters.  "There,  they  won't  find  our  needle  so  easily. 
Now,  Ev,  suppose  you  go  up  and  fetch  the  first  gang  of 
watchers. ' ' 

After  stalling  the  horses,  they  worked  the  truck  into 
its  place,  lengthwise  across  the  broad  doors.  When  they 
got  it  in  position  there  was  not  much  room  to  spare  in  the 
barn.  Then  the  carpenter  was  fetched  to  nail  the  box-like 
structure  together,  which  was  to  rise  from  the  floor  of  the 
truck.  The  driver,  meanwhile,  sorely  doubting,  but  guar- 
anteed as  to  loss,  was  weaving  lengths  of  twisted  wire  on  his 
harness. 


Bourdon  185 


Before  long  the  sound  of  tramping  feet  and  subdued 
voices  was  heard  and  the  barn  was  swarming  with  a  roughly 
dressed,  flushed  and  excited  crowd  of  freshmen. 

'  *  We  met  two  gangs  of  sophs,  about  a  dozen  in  each, 
and  they  had  to  tackle  us  — no  way  out.  We  didn't  do  a 
thing  but  tie  up  every  man  jack  of  them.  Then  we  took 
their  shoes  and  pants  off  and  tossed  some  of  'em  into 
gardens,  and  the  rest  over  fences  into  vacant  lots.  Oh, 
those  sophs  won't  be  looking  for  any  Bourdon  coffin 
tonight !  What's  the  matter  with " 

"Here,  quit  that,  fellows,"  remonstrated  James. 
"We're  all  right,  but  this  isn't  the  time  to  tell  folks 
about  it." 

The  excited  freshmen,  having  tasted  blood,  were  not 
easily  composed,  but  after  they  had  looked  into  everything, 
they  all  set  to  work.  Amateur  painters  started  in  on  the 
transparencies ;  others  cut  garden-hose  into  yard  lengths, 
while  still  others  strung  barb-wire  plentifully  before  the  door 
and  window." 

"Now  we're  ready  for  them.  At  six  o'clock  you 
fellows  will  be  relieved.  Go  home  in  a  bunch  so  far  as  you 
can.  You're  due  again  tomorrow  at  noon."  It  being  past 
two  in  the  morning,  and  everything  in  a  satisfactory  state, 
James  started  off  for  home. 

From  many  a  window  peered  forth  many  an  anxious 
freshman  next  morning  upon  a  gray,  drizzling  sky  and 
muddy  earth.  "  Bad  day  for  Bourdon. " 

At  eight  o'clock  James  was  down  at  the  barn.  Every- 
thing here  appeared  to  be  in  ship-shape  order,  the  new  gang 
of  guards  being  in  possession.  Along  the  wall  leaned  a  row 
of  newly  finished  transparencies.  Soon  after,  Rawson  left  to 


1 86         For   the   Blue   and  Gold 


attend  a  recitation.  A  length  of  barb- wire  was  removed 
from  before  the  door,  and  this  was  cautiously  slid  back  a 
foot.  James  crawled  out,  looking  carefully  around  for  the 
enemy.  As  class  prex  and  principal  Bourdon  speaker,  the 
sophomores  would  have  been  glad  to  capture  him  and  hold 
him  until  after  the  ceremony.  As,  in  fact,  they  would  have 
been  to  capture  any  or  all  of  the  speakers,  this  being  one  of 
their  ways  of  breaking  up  the  Bourdon. 

James  had  not  proceeded  more  than  two  blocks,  when, 
looking  across  a  lot,  he  perceived  approaching  him  at  a 
right  angle  a  crowd  of  fellows,  roughly  dressed.  "  Sophs  !  " 
he  exclaimed,  stopping  short.  He  saw  that  they  had 
noticed  him,  for,  although  the  crowd  kept  on  walking  as  if 
unaware,  several  had  involuntarily  started  at  the  sight,  but 
had  felt  the  restraining  hands  of  their  cooler  fellows. 

'  *  Which  way  shall  I  go  ?  "  James  rapidly  measured 
possibilities.  "Up  to  Berkeley?  I'll  have  to  cross  their 
track  and  they'll  nab  me.  No,  I  must  retreat. "  Suiting 
the  action  to  the  thought,  he  wheeled  and  started  back  at  a 
trot.  They  were  barely  one  hundred  yards  away.  Simula- 
tion was  discarded  the  moment  James  started.  They  sprang 
into  a  run.  James  increased  his  speed  as  they  did  theirs. 
Some  of  the  sophomores  leaped  ahead  of  the  others  and 
slightly  closed  the  distance.  James  burst  into  full  speed. 
The  barn  was  yet  a  block  off.  If  they  reached  him  before  he 
could  get  safely  in  he  was  a  goner,  as  there  were  probably  a 
score  of  the  pursuers.  James  put  on  more  steam.  <(  That's 
the  limit,"  he  thought.  The  gap  between  him  and  the 
leaders  opened  slightly,  then  it  contracted  again.  The  barn 
was  still  a  hundred  yards  away,  with  a  fence  between. 
James  cleared  the  fence  without  a  break  in  his  stride,  thanks 


Bourdon  187 


to  the  hurdling  practice.  The  others  balked  more  or  less. 
He  saw  the  look-out  up  at  the  small  window,  and  shouted, 
4 'Open!"  The  heads  disappeared.  "Would  they 
uncouple  the  door  in  time  ? ' '  He  doubted  it.  ' '  Open  the 
door  !"  he  shouted,  pounding  away.  "  The  sophs  are  after 
me !"  and  he  gave  the  password.  There  was  scuffling 
inside  and  the  door  rolled  back.  At  the  same  time  the  line 
of  wire  was  removed  and  James  plunged  and  squeezed 
through,  aided  by  eager  hands.  The  wire  was  replaced. 
The  door  pushed  to,  but  before  the  bolt  could  be  slipped 
the  sophomores'  hands  were  grasping  the  door  and  tugging 
it  back.  They  had  a  better  chance  for  a  hold  than  the  men 
inside.  With  a  combined  wrench  the  sophomores  made  an 
opening  and  got  their  bodies  in  it.  Then  the  door  flew 
open,  tumbling  them  down.  But  they  were  not  in,  for  the 
closely  stretched  barb-wire  barred  the  way,  and  behind  that 
the  truck  with  its  stand,  filling  the  space  entirely.  The 
freshmen  had  simply  let  the  door  go  as  of  slight  impor- 
tance, and,  grabbing  their  lengths  of  hose,  had  taken  up 
their  stations  upon  and  about  the  truck. 

Several  sophomore  feet,  heavily  booted,  were  imme- 
diately aimed  at  the  wire.  Their  owners  stumbled  back 
under  a  shower  of  hose  strokes,  hats  knocked  into  the 
mud. 

' '  The  nippers  !  The  nippers  ! ' '  was  now  the  sopho- 
more cry.  The  nippers  were  produced,  but  before  the  hand 
that  held  them  could  close  them  over  the  wire  they  were 
sent  flying  into  the  mud  by  a  sweeping  hose-stroke,  and  the 
sophomore  was  jumping  up  and  down,  wringing  his  hand 
and  cursing.  Again  they  tried,  but  there  were  a  dozen 
sweeps  of  hose  for  every  sophomore  who  got  within  striking 


1 88         For   the   Blue  and   Gold 


distance.  Biff!  bang!  went  the  swishing  hose,  and  sopho- 
mores drew  their  heads  in  like  turtles.  Realizing  the 
futility  of  their  present  means  of  assault,  they  retired.  Just 
then  a  second  band  appeared,  of  numbers  equal  to  the  first, 
and,  like  them,  dressed  for  the  rough  work.  They  got 
together  for  consultation,  and  were  soon  seen  wrapping 
their  hands  in  handkerchiefs,  caps  and  other  articles.  Then, 
with  a  mad  yell,  they  charged,  regardless  of  consequences, 
right  for  the  flesh-tearing  barb-wire.  Biff !  bang  !  went  the 
defenders'  hose,  but  the  sophomores  hung  on.  Charlie 
Boyce,  in  the  van,  his  hands  encased  in  gloves,  had  made  a 
running  jump  at  the  barrier,  and  was  hanging  on,  tugging 
away  at  the  topmost  wire,  notwithstanding  the  rain  of  blows 
that  were  being  dealt  him.  "Pull,  fellows,  pull!  I'm 
caught !  "  he  cried  in  mingled  rage  and  pain.  They  caught 
hold  of  his  legs.  A  lurch,  and  Boyce  came  down,  the  wire 
in  his  hand,  his  clothes  catching  and  tearing  as  they  pulled. 
A  sophomore  yell  went  up.  Boyce  wrung  the  torn  gloves  off 
of  his  lacerated  hands.  Another  rush  was  formed  and  still 
another,  despite  the  shower  of  hose-strokes  that  raised  welts 
upon  heads  and  shoulders.  The  barb-wire  began  to  hang 
loose,  and  there  were  gaps  in  it.  But  the  freshmen  fought 
savagely,  though  at  a  disadvantage.  For,  although  the 
sophomores  were  no  stronger  numerically,  they  had  the 
advantage  of  position,  in  that  they  could  use  all  their 
strength  in  each  assault  from  the  open  ground,  while  but  a 
few  freshmen  at  a  time  could  get  at  the  opening  from  on  top 
of  the  truck. 

The  ground  about  the  barn  had  been  churned  up  into  a 
thin,  sticky  mud  by  the  tramping,  and  had  plentifully 
besmeared  the  sophomores,  head  and  foot.  The  wire  was 


Bourdon  189 


now  well  trampled.  The  sophomores  retired  for  another 
consultation.  With  a  yell  they  returned  to  the  third  and 
strongest  assault.  The  rush  was  for  the  truck.  It  closely 
barred  the  way,  but  if  they  could  work  out  the  front  wheels 
they  would  be  able  to  get  at  both  truck  and  freshmen. 
Now,  as  they  struggled  with  the  wheels,  the  freshmen  had  a 
better  chance  at  them. 

"  Pull  'em  in,  boys  ! "  yelled  James,  and  a  sophomore 
came  tumbling  into  the  barn.  Others  followed.  Their 
cries,  as  heard  without,  bespoke  no  gentle  reception.  Then 
the  sophomores  dragged  a  freshman  out  and  rolled  him  in 
the  mud  as  for  a  dumpling. 

Now,  at  last,  the  front  wheels  of  the  truck  were  worked 
around.  "In  at  'em,  boys!"  was  the  sophomore  yell. 
' '  Out  at  'em  ! "  the  freshmen's.  They  crashed  together  at 
the  doorway.  The  freshmen  gave  way  and  the  sophomores 
crowded  into  the  barn.  Here,  within  the  narrow  limits, 
began  a  wild  scene.  The  freshmen  outnumbered  the 
invaders  but  slightly.  On  the  other  hand  the  sophomores 
were  a  picked  crew.  The  barn  floor  became  a  mass  of 
struggling  arms  and  legs.  The  space  was  almost  too 
confined  for  action.  The  horses  took  fright  and  stamped 
and  tugged  at  their  halters. 

But  what  was  that  cry  ?  None  of  the  combatants 
heard  it,  until  like  catapults  a  score  of  freshmen  scrambled 
over  the  truck  and  bounded  upon  the  sophomores.  In  a 
minute  hay  rope  began  to  be  in  requisition.  Some  of  the 
sophomores,  fearing  themselves  overwhelmed,  broke  out  of 
the  struggle  and  ran  for  it.  Percy  was  among  this  number. 
The  rest  were  soon  in  bonds.  When  they  had  been  carried 
to  the  loft,  stripped  of  shoes  and  stockings  and  left  with  a 


190         For  the  Blue  and  Gold 


guard,  the  truck  was  put  back  into  place  and  things 
tidied  up. 

"  Well,  I  guess  the  sophs  won't  try  that  again  today," 
James  remarked,  mopping  his  brow.  "  But  where  in  the 
world  did  you  fellows  drop  from  ? ' '  —  to  the  late  comers. 

' '  We  were  in  at  math  when  a  fellow  opened  the  door 
and  yelled,  *  Run  for  the  barn  — the  sophs  !  *  We  jumped 
for  the  door  as  one  man.  Say,  I  wonder  if  this  means  a 
cinch?" 

More  than  an  hour  had  passed  with  this  little  diversion. 
Soon  James  announced:  "I've  got  a  10:20  that  I  don't 
want  to  cut,  too. ' ' 

"  Better  stay  awhile,  Jim.     They  might  tackle  you. "» 

"  No,  I  guess  they've  gone  off  for  repairs.  Nearly  all 
of  them  were  pretty  well  bunged  up." 

So  he  started  off,  accompanied  by  George,  Holland  and 
Edmunds.  "They  won't  take  us  in  a  swallow." 

Up  near  the  end  of  Telegraph  Avenue,  a  few  doors 
from  the  Oski-Wow  Eating  Club,  stood  a  vacant  house,  with 
a  store  down-stairs,  likewise  vacant.  The  shuttered  doors 
stood  both  half-way  open.  The  four  freshmen  approached 
this  spot,  with  James  on  the  inside,  next  to  him  Holland, 
then  George  and  Edmunds.  As  they  came  in  front  of  it, 
James  glanced  curiously  in.  At  the  same  instant  three  men 
jumped  from  behind  each  door  and  made  for  him.  He 
struggled.  The  others  came  to  his  assistance,  but  in  a 
thrice  fully  a  dozen  more  sprang  out  and  surrounded  the 
four.  James,  lashing  out  with  vigor,  nevertheless  felt 
himself  bustled  into  the  shop.  He  tripped  at  the  step,  and 
with  that  they  had  him  indoors.  The  others  were  fighting 
vigorously,  but  without  avail.  The  attacking  party  had 


E our  don  191 


divided  and  separated  the  four  freshmen.  Holland  was 
forced  in  with  James  in  the  struggle.  George  and  Edmunds 
found  a  half  dozen  sophomores  between  themselves  and  the 
door,  which  was  suddenly  slammed  and  locked  before  their 
noses.  The  sophomores,  closing  about  them,  blustering, 
told  them  to  move  on.  They  demurred,  but  not  seeing 
how  they  could  fight  the  whole  six,  were  backed  off  from 
the  scene  toward  the  campus. 

Meanwhile,  within  the  dark,  bare  store,  a  lively  tussle 
was  in  progress.  Sophomores  seemed  to  spring  up  from 
every  corner.  They  filled  the  room,  surrounding  James 
and  Holland  on  all  sides.  James  fought  toward  the  door. 
"Here,  now,  let  me  out  of  this,"  he  demanded,  *'  I  have 
a  recitation  at  10:20." 

"Not  on  your  necktie,"  was  the  decisive  answer. 
"You'll  cut  everything  today,  even  Bourdon." 

"We'll  keep  you  out  of  the  wet  so  you  won't  take 
cold  or  get  hurt  tonight,  Jim,"  Burton,  footballer,  spoke. 
He  and  James  had  been  pretty  thick  during  training  season. 

"This  is  going  too  far,  Burt.  I've  got  my  work  to 
attend  to." 

"I'll  notify  your  boss,  Jim,  that  you're  detained  by 
urgent  business."  It  was  Percy.  James  had  not  noticed 
him,  for  his  eyes  were  not  yet  accustomed  to  the  darkness. 

"Now,  come  along  without  a  row."  James  and 
Holland  each  felt  a  noose  suddenly  close  down  over  their 
arms  and  drawn  tight.  James  decided  that  the  time  for 
opposition  was  not  yet  ripe.  So  he  allowed  himself  to 
be  led. 

The  captives  were  conducted  across  a  back  yard, 
through  an  opening  in  a  fence  and  toward  a  two-story 


1 92         For  the   Blue  and  Gold 


house.  Then  upstairs  to  a  small  back  room,  empty,  save 
for  a  bed  and  two  chairs. 

"Make  yourselves  miserable,  gentlemen. "  James 
threw  himself  on  the  bed.  He  was  mad  clear  through. 
But  a  few  moments'  reflection  put  him  in  a  better  frame 
of  mind. 

"It's  all  in  the  game,  and  they  haven't  kept  us  over 
the  Bourdon  yet.' ' 

Holland  sat  sullenly  on  a  chair.  He  resented  the  insult 
to  his  dignity.  "  You  fellows  will  pay  dearly  for  this,  all 
right." 

"Oh,  shut  up,  Holland,  or  we'll  gag  you  !  We  don't 
want  any  of  your  lip." 

Percy  approached  the  bed.  "  Sorry,  old  man,  but  we 
needed  you  worse  than  the  freshmen  did.  I'll  ask  Mrs. 
Saunders  to  send  your  dinner  around.  Any  other 
message?"  No  answer. 

"Well,  so  long.  I'll  tell  you  all  about  the  Bourdon 
tomorrow.  You  fellows  watch  him  close."  Percy  went 
out  whistling  cheerfully,  locking  the  door  behind  him.  Six 
sophomores  squatted  along  the  wall  in  front  of  it,  producing 
tobacco-bags,  pipes  and  cigarette  papers.  Holland  sat 
glowering  sullenly  before  him.  James  lay  with  his  face  to 
the  wall,  apparently  asleep. 

A  mighty  cheer  rose  up  from  exulting  freshman  throats 
as  the  truck  rolled  forth  from  the  barn,  drawn  by  four 
powerful  horses  and  preceded  and  followed  by  the  entire 
male  portion  of  the  freshman  class  and  some  juniors  in  an 
advisory  capacity. 

"  Hoop  la,  hoop  la  !     Ninety  odd, "  resounded  the  class 


E  our  don  193 


yell.  Guarding  the  truck  on  every  side  were  freshmen 
brandishing  yard  lengths  of  hose ;  up  on  top  o£  the  miniature 
house,  where  the  precious  coffin  reposed,  and  from  where  it 
and  the  fireworks  were  to  be  touched  off;  on  the  miniature 
porch  from  which  the  speeches  were  delivered  ;  on  the  seat ; 
along  the  sides;  on  the  back  —  defenders  bristled  every- 
where ;  while  behind  marched  the  men  with  the  transpar- 
encies, also  guarded  ;  and  bringing  up  the  rear  the  rest  of 
the  class,  ready  for  any  sophomore  aggression.  From 
every  side  streamed  the  Berkeley  small  boy  and  the  Berkeley 
tough,  the  "town  muckers,"  as  pestiferous  as  the  sopho- 
more himself. 

But  when  they  had  fairly  cleared  the  barn  and  were 
out  in  the  open,  with  no  means  of  protection  but  that 
furnished  by  their  own  prowess,  the  freshman  mood 
changed.  Their  bravado  suddenly  and  completely  deserted 
them,  and  for  a  few  minutes  the  line  moved  on  in  silence, 
save  for  the  rumble  of  the  truck.  There  was  not  enough 
gumption  left  in  the  ranks  to  raise  a  class  yell. 

This  sudden  reaction  in  spirits  was  caused  by  the 
strangeness,  the  unfamiliarity  of  the  surroundings.  Weird 
is  the  only  word  that  approximately  conveys  an  impression 
of  the  effect  of  the  conditions  upon  the  freshmen.  Every- 
thing was  so  unlike  its  daytime  aspect.  The  rain  had 
ceased  and  the  stars  were  shining  brightly  and  coldly.  The 
electric  lights  at  the  corners  threw  their  confusing  rays  upon 
the  puddles.  Trees,  fences,  empty  lots  and  buildings  were 
blotted  off  into  inky  blackness  or  were  casting  deceptive, 
startling  shadows  upon  the  surroundings.  Every  dark  spot 
or  shadow  secreted  a  sophomore  foe.  The  freshmen  had 
not  bargained  for  this  weird  effect,  and,  for  a  time,  it  took 


194         For  the  Blue  and  Gold 


the  starch  out  of  them.  But  the  exigencies  of  the  situation 
soon,  partially  at  least,  brought  them  to  themselves. 

The  transparencies  were  the  freshmen's  especial  priue. 
Upon  them  were  worked  out,  in  large  letter  and  crude 
picture,  his  criticism  and  comment  on  certain  professors, 
and  all  his  scorn  for  the  tribe  of  sophomore,  in  general  and 
in  particular. 

It  is  part  of  the  Bourdon  program  that  the  truck  shall 
parade  as  large  a  territory  as  possible  before  entering  the 
campus.  This  to  exhibit  the  glory  to  the  good  people  of 
Berkeley  and  to  show  the  sophomore  that  nobody's  afraid. 
The  fraternity  houses  are  all  lighted  up  and  thrown  open, 
and  the  procession  aims  to  pass  them  all,  with  mutual  cheers 
and  fireworks. 

When  it  gained  Dwight  Way  the  fun  began.  Sud- 
denly from  the  shadow  dashed  a  group  of  sophomores. 
With  Indian  whoops  they  rushed  upon  the  wagon.  ' '  Down 
with  the  freshies  !  "  Straight  for  the  horses  they  made 
with  open  knives.  The  horses  began  to  rear  and  plunge. 

" Guard  the  harness!"  "Stay  with  the  wagon!" 
were  the  freshman  cries,  and  hose  blows  rained  down  on 
sophomore  heads  and  shoulders.  The  leather  was  cut  before 
the  sophomores  could  be  beaten  off,  but  the  wire  held. 
After  a  liberal  series  of  thumps  this  sophomore  band  was 
left  in  the  road,  but  it  caught  up  again,  aiming  mudballs 
and  stones  at  the  transparencies. 

From  this  point  on  the  freshman  advance  was  a  bed  of 
thorns — at  one  point  almost  literally  so.  The  sophomores 
had  sprinkled  tacks  on  the  road.  A  party  of  twenty-five 
dashed  out  as  the  rear-guard  of  the  procession  passed. 
With  a  spring  they  had  detached  a  dozen  freshmen. 


Bourdon  195 


Knives  flashed ;  shoes  were  slit  down  the  back  seam,  and 
thus  loosened,  easily  pulled  off  and  tossed  over  fences. 
The  first  freshman  put  his  stockinged  foot  down.  ' '  Ouch, 
ouch  !"  A  yell  of  pain,  as  it  met  a  tack.  Others  found 
the  same  points. 

"  Tacks,  boys,  tacks  !  "  they  called.  The  sophomores 
smiled  grimly. 

"Those  freshmen  are  out  of  it,"  remarked  Charlie 
Boyce.  But  not  so.  Breaking  away,  they  ran  for  a  cross 
street  and  'joined  the  procession  a  block  up,  continuing  in 
their  stocking  feet. 

And  so  the  progress  of  the  procession  was  interfered 
with,  but  not  stopped,  by  marauding  bands  of  sophomores, 
employing  guerilla  tactics.  But  the  worst  was  yet  to  come, 
as  every  freshman  understood,  when  these  bands  united 
within  the  grounds  for  a  final  stand.  Then  the  ripe  eggs 
would  come  into  play,  deadliest  of  weapons.  Up  one  street 
and  down  another  went  the  truck  with  its  noisy  following, 
past  the  frat  houses  on  Piedmont  Way  and  Bancroft  Way, 
and  thence  to  the  campus  entrance  down  by  the  Gym. 

Barely  in  time  the  driver  pulled  up  his  horses  with  a 
curse.  "How  d'ye  expect  me  to  drive  through  that?" 
he  exclaimed.  A  bunch  of  freshmen  ran  forward. 

"They've  wired  up  the  entrance, "  was  the  cry.  Sure 
enough,  from  post  to  post  stretched  a  tangle  of  barb-wire 
tightly  drawn. 

"Nippers,  who  has  nippers?"  But  none  were  forth- 
coming, their  use  on  this  occasion  being  confined  to  sopho- 
more circles. 

' '  Drive  around  to  the  Center  Street  entrance  and 
knock  out  the  posts."  The  procession  proceeded,  followed 


196         For  the   Blue  and  Gold 


by  hoots  from  unseen  sophomores,  which  bespoke  the 
certainty  of  trouble  beyond  the  entrance.  Scouts  were 
sent  in  advance  to  report  on  the  state  of  this  means  of 
ingress.  It  was  found  to  be  worse  blocked  up  than  the 
first,  not  only  with  barb-wire,  but  with  stumps  of  trees 
which  the  workmen  had  been  uprooting,  and  other  impedi- 
ments. Thus  in  turn  was  each  entrance  visited,  with  no 
better  results.  The  hour  was  growing  late,  and  the  fresh- 
men had  no  time  to  clear  a  blocked  and  guarded  entrance. 
After  all,  it  began  to  look  as  if  the  sophomores  would 
succeed  in  preventing  the  Bourdon  ceremony,  at  least  as  far 
as  its  performance  on  the  campus  was  concerned.  And 
there,  on  the  baseball  bleachers,  were  the  freshmen's  guests 
waiting  for  the  show  to  begin. 

"  If  it  comes  to  the  worst,  we'll  touch  her  off  right  out 
here  on  the  road." 

But  no,  for  now  comes  a  breathless  scout  and  reports 
that  way  up  Strawberry  Creek,  in  back  of  the  Dining  Asso- 
ciation, is  a  poorly-blocked  and  unguarded  entrance.  With 
a  cheer  the  horses  are  whipped  up.  Soon  the  procession  is 
on  the  upper  campus,  passing  the  Library.  The  sopho- 
mores have  located  it,  and  now  redouble  their  attentions. 

"Flap!"  "Squash!"  "Eggs,  rotten  eggs!"  the 
freshmen  cry  in  consternation.  ' '  Phew  !  "  ' '  I  got  one 
down  the  neck  !  "  There  is  no  escape.  The  freshmen  are 
massed  so  closely  around  the  wagon  that  if  the  missiles  miss 
one  they  hit  another. 

1  'Stay  with  the  wagon,  boys!"  shout  the  freshmen. 
Down  the  long,  straight  slope  from  the  Library  the  disgusted 
driver  whips  his  equally  disgusted  horses  into  a  run, 
shaking  things  up  in  a  lively  manner,  the  chattering  freshmen 


Bourdon  197 


holding  on  for  dear  life.  The  sophomores  clear  the 
path  and  can  hardly  follow.  With  a  swish  they  swing  into 
the  baseball  field  and  come  to  a  halt  before  the  bleachers 
filled  with  spectators  —  co-eds,  upper  classmen,  friends  and 
relations,  and  townspeople,  all  soon  to  share  equally  with 
their  freshman  hosts  the  bitterness  of  mudballs  and  rotten 
eggs.  The  horses  are  detached.  The  sophomores  surge 
up  about  the  truck,  surrounding  it  on  three  sides.  The 
freshman  hose  is  kept  busier  than  ever. 

"It's  a  rush,  boys,  a  rush  !  There's  no  way  out  of  it. 
We'll  have  to  tie  'em  up  before  we  go  further."  Thus 
speaks  George,  and  they  agree.  The  juniors  counsel  like- 
wise, producing  rope,  to  show  their  forethought.  "  Rush 
'em,  freshmen  ! ' ' 

* '  Oh,  if  Jim  were  only  here  ! ' '  That  wish  finds  echo 
from  more  than  one  quarter. 

How  has  it  fared,  meanwhile,  with  the  two  prisoners  ? 
Throughout  the  long  afternoon  James  has  lain  on  the  bed, 
chafing  and  cursing  his  captors.  At  one  time  his  anger  rises 
to  the  boiling  point,  then  cools  down  somewhat  as  he  tries  to 
be  philosophical  and  put  himself  in  the  others'  place.  But 
this  is  hard  work.  His  day's  business  and  pleasure  has 
been. rudely  interfered  with.  "What  will  the  old  lady 
think  of  me,  up  to  such  kid's  business  !  And  what's 
become  of  the  Bourdon?  Have  they  turned  our  month's 
work  into  nothing!  "  Throughout  it  all  his  mind  has  flown 
from  one  quixotic  scheme  of  escape  to  another.  But  all 
have  hit  up  against  the  hard  reality  of  the  six  guarding 
sophomores,  the  locked  door,  and  the  second-story  window. 
Holland  has  not  fared  so  well  as  Rawson.  His  spirit  is 
more  rebellious.  And  the  sophomores  are  not  particularly 


198         For   the   Blue   and  Gold 


impressed  with  him  at  best.  Twice  his  choler  has  gotten 
the  better  of  him  ;  the  result  —  an  attempt  to  carry  out  the 
threat  of  a  gag,  and  a  sound  cuffiing.  At  this  James  has 
jumped  from  the  bed  in  a  rage,  and  the  six  sophomores 
have  had  a  few  lively  moments,  ending  with  the  removal  of 
the  gag. 

'  *  Keep  cool, ' '  counsels  James,  bending  over  the  silently 
weeping  Holland.  "We  may  do  them  yet.  There's 
time." 

Towards  evening  the  second  relay  of  guards  showed 
signs  of  restlessness.  Presently  the  street  below  began  to 
bustle  with  the  approach  of  the  Bourdon  procession.  The 
six  sophomores  could  contain  themselves  no  longer.  "Say, 
but  Pd  like  to  be  down  there." 

"Wouldn't  I!  Hunter  has  a  nerve  to  keep  us  up 
here." 

"  Let's  tie  them  up,  lock  the  room  and  light  out. 
They  can '  t  get  out  in  time  for  anything  now. ' '  Five  agreeing 
voices. 

James  played  possum  while  he  was  being  bound, 
expanding  his  muscles  as  much  as  possible.  Soon  the  six 
had  left  the  room,  with  a  chuckle,  locking  the  door  behind 
them. 

" Tied  up,  Holland?" 

"Yep.     You  too?" 

"  Same  here.  Look  out,  Pm  coming  !  "  With  this, 
James  rolled  off  the  bed.  Out  in  the  street  an  electric 
light  on  a  tall  mast  was  shining  into  the  room  like  a  full 
moon. 

' '  Lie  down,  now,  and  give  me  a  look  at  your  knot. 
Pm  hungry. ' '  James  knawed  away  patiently  for  ten  minutes. 


Bourdon  199 


Then  Holland  jerked  his  hands.  "Hurrah!  They're 
loose!" 

"Now  yours."  Soon  they  both  stood  up  and 
stretched.  James  looked  at  his  watch.  ''There's  time 
yet."  He  smiled  gleefully  and  walked  over  to  the  window. 
"Nailed.  This  is  an  empty  house,  so  here  goes."  A 
grass  plat  partly  deadened  the  sound  of  falling  glass, 
as  James'  heavily  shod  foot  went  crashing  through  a 
window. 

"  Kind  of  them  to  leave  us  this  nice  rope.  Here, 
catch  hold  and  we'll  test  it.  That'll  hold.  Tie  it  to  the 
bedpost.  Shall  I  go  over  first  ?  All  right,  if  it  holds  me 
it  will  hold  you." 

In  a  trice  James  was  through  the  window.  He  whistled 
softly  and  Holland  came  sliding  down. 

They  chuckled  gleefully.  ' '  Won' t  they  be  surprised 
to  see  us  !  " 

Fiercely  and  savagely  fought  the  freshmen  in  the 
defense  of  their  Bourdon.  The  sophomores,  although  lusty 
rushers,  were  outnumbered.  Besides,  the  freshmen,  now 
almost  sophomores,  knew  a  trick  or  two  that  they  had  paid 
for  dearly  in  experience.  The  fight  was  short,  sharp  and 
decisive.  As  James  and  Holland  came  running  breathlessly 
across  the  campus,  the  freshmen  were  lifting  up  a  shout  of 
victory. 

George  was  the  first  to  recognize  the  hatless  and 
disheveled  class  prex.  He  had  spent  all  afternoon  in  fruit- 
less attempts  to  rescue  his  friend. 

"  Rawson,  here  comes  Jim  Rawson  !"  he  shouted  above 
the  yelling.  James  came  panting  up. 

"Are  we  in  time?" 


2OO 


For   the    Blue  and   Gold 


"  That  you  are,  to  see  the  sophs  tied  up.  Now  we'll 
do  our  do." 

An  excited  group  gathered  about  the  arrivals,  asking 
how  and  why. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  Jim  Rawson  ?  "  went  up  the 
cry.  "He's  all  right,  you  bet,  every  time."  It  was 
Chester  Holland's  voice  that  led  all  the  rest,  while  those 
about  him  stared  in  astonishment. 

The  actual  ceremony  of  the  Bourdon  came  as  an  anti- 
climax after  all  the  fuss  and  flying  feathers  that  had 
prefaced  it.  However,  it  may  be  urged  that  the  preceding 
fuss  and  flying  feathers  are  an  important  part  of  the  affair, — 
in  fact,  the  most  important  part.  For  if  you  could  find  a 
freshman  who  had  studied  the  psychology  of  the  occasion, 
he  would  probably  explain  to  you  that  it  was  not  the 
Bourdon  itself  that  counted  so  much,  but  the  winning  from 
the  sophomores  of  the  contested  right  to  hold  the  Bourdon. 

From  the  top  of  the  truck  the  coffin  was  ignited,  the 
red-light  was  burned,  and  the  Roman  candles  fired  into  the 
air  —  and  the  crowd.  From  the  balcony  the  speeches 
began.  These,  as  was  expected,  were  almost  unbearable, 
for  the  sophomores,  even  in  their  tied-up  state,  had  plenty 
of  voice  left,  and  the  town  muckers  ably  seconded  the 
sophomores  at  the  hubbub.  Worse  than  this,  they  caught 
the  sophomore  spirit  to  the  extent  of  flinging  not  only  mud 
and  eggs,  but  rocks  as  well,  at  the  truck  and  bleachers. 

In  the  course  of  the  day's  excitement  James  had  lost 
his  carefully  written  out  speech.  But  as  soon  as  he  stood 
on  the  platform  he  realized  that  it  would  have  done  him  no 
good  to  have  kept  it.  Therefore,  doing  as  he  was  told, 
James  swung  forth  his  arms  and  launched  into  a  rhapsodical 


Bourdon 


201 


"jolly,"  which,  screamed  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  was  yet 
hardly  audible  from  the  bleachers.  ' '  Ho,  you  scrubby 
sophs  !  You  thought  to  do  us  up.  But  we  put  it  all  over 
you.  Hurrah  for  the  freshmen  !  What's  the  matter  with 
ninety  odd?  Sophs,  you're  not  feeling  so  jolly  now,  are 
you?  Ho,  you  muckers,  we'll  do  you  up  next!"  and 
some  more,  equally  irrelevant  (not  to  say  irreverent)  and 
immaterial. 

Thus  another  freshman  class  declared  itself  emancipated 
from  the  thraldom  of  the  books  that  Bourdon  and  Minto 
had  written,  notwithstanding  the  machinations  of  its  oppres- 
sors. With  a  last  rattling  of  cheers  and  yells  the  freshman 
crowd  dispersed  ;  frat  men  to  the  celebrations  at  their 
respective  chapter-houses,  non-frats,  convivially  inclined  to 
the  Wid's.  James,  declining  Holland's  invitation,  went 
thoughtfully  home  to  square  himself  with  his  employer. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
Class   Day 


1  *  Well,  Jim,  it  begins  to  look  as  if  this  old  year  were 
on  the  homestretch,  doesn't  it?" 

"  Sure  enough.  Exes  Thursday,  and  after  that  we'll 
go  out  into  the  wide,  wide  world  and  rustle." 

"  There's  lots  to  happen  between  exes  and  the  wide, 
wide  world,  especially  for  some.  There's  commencement 
week,  with  its  swift,  gay  whirl  of  festivities,  class  day  and 
commencement  day  themselves.  You're  going  to  stay 
over,  of  course,  aren'  t  you  ?  ' ' 

"Yes,  guess  I  will.  There'll  be  things  doing  that  I 
want  to  take  in." 

' '  Especially  the  conferring  of  that  medal,  hey  ?  ' ' 

' '  Well,  yes,  that  among  them.  Do  you  hear  anything 
about  that,  Percy?" 

' '  Nothing  except  what  I  get  from  you  —  '  Read  the 
answer  in  my  eyes,  love.'  ' 

"Oh,  letup!" 

"  But  I  think  she  stands  a  show  from  what  I  hear. 
Even  Warren  has  been  having  doubtful  spells  lately.  One 
of  the  math  profs  was  a-telling  him,  I  hear,  about  a  co-ed 
that  has  done  fine  work  and  was  going  to  be  heard  from. 
I  think  some  of  the  faculty  are  tucking  her  up  their  sleeves 
to  ring  in  like  a  cold  deck  on  Warren.'* 

"  Well,  wouldn't  you  like  to  see  it  ?  " 


Class   Day  203 


"Yes,  for  my  friend's  sake." 

' '  Shut  up !  Give  us  a  rest  on  that. ' '  And  Percy 
walks  off  humming,  "Oh,  promise  me  that  some  day  you'll 
be  mine,"  leaving  James  standing  a  bit  angry,  a  bit  foolish, 
and  a  bit  red  about  the  ears. 

Bourdon  over,  play  has  ended  for  the  year,  and  the 
freshmen  and  sophomores  forget  their  differences  in  their 
common  troubles.  James  had  grabbed  for  his  books  to 
make  up  for  lost  time.  His  second  freshman  theme 
demanded  instant  completion,  and  immediately  following 
that  began  digging  for  the  exes.  In  truth,  every  evidence 
is  now  pointing  to  the  dissolution  of  the  college  year.  As 
at  Christmas,  the  signs  are  plain,  even  plainer  than  then. 
The  bum  has  vanished  from  North  Hall  steps,  up  in  the 
Library  ponies  are  at  a  discount.  Many  a  student  of  the 
languages  is  wandering  about,  offering,  like  Richard  III, 
"  My  kingdom  for  a  pony  ! "  In  some  cases  even  the  daily 
8:30  course  in  the  Californian  has  been  dropped  ;  or,  where 
this  would  be  too  rigorous,  the  reading  of  the  advertisements 
is  omitted.  Dress-suit  cases  are  in  evidence  more  than  usual, 
the  most  respectable  vehicle  for  carrying  soiled  clothes. 
Around  the  dinner-table  at  Mrs.  Saunders'  the  talk  has 
veered  from  track  athletics,  baseball,  drill  and  debate,  to 
note-books,  digging,  back  work,  cinches,  and  examination 
topics  in  general. 

Now  intervenes  a  period  when  everybody  is  studying 
at  fever  heat.  These  final  exes,  with  maybe  a  whole  year's 
work  to  review  on,  are  anything  but  a  ' '  snap. ' '  Then  the 
series  of  decisive  hours,  and  the  year's  work  is  over  —  for 
some.  Apartments  are  dismantled,  trunks  are  packed,  and 
those  in  a  hurry  take  the  train  back  home  to  await  in 


204         For  the  Blue   and  Gold 


suspense  the  arrival  of  the  envelope  containing  a  certain 
little  card  which  has  been  left  with  the  recorder. 

In  the  two  weeks  that  intervened  between  closing  of 
recitations  and  class  day,  James  had  divided  his  time 
between  examinations  and  the  turning  of  not  a  few 
honest  dollars  by  smashing  baggage  for  the  students' 
express.  He  was,  besides,  with  Percy,  taking  lessons  in 
canvassing,  given  by  the  representative  of  a  combination 
desk  that  they  had  decided  to  sell  during  vacation  — 
"Course  in  cheek -hardening  1A,"  they  called  it. 

At  length  class  day  dawned  for  the  anxious  seniors  —  a 
typical  California  May  day.  Enough  said.  The  seniors 
gathered  early  in  their  white  duck  trousers,  co-ed  seniors  in 
white  dresses.  The  festivities  were  divided  into  two  parts, 
class  pilgrimage  in  the  morning  and  spectacular  play  in  the 
afternoon,  up  in  Ben  Weed's  Amphitheatre. 

The  band  is  playing  up  at  the  flag-staff,  and  the 
outgoing  seniors  are  forming  into  line.  All  about  are  the 
new  seniors  in  their  tall  black  plugs,  soon  to  be  wrecked 
into  the  proper  state  of  limpness  and  disrepair.  Brand-new 
juniors,  too,  are  strutting  about  in  their  new-found  dignity 
of  gray  plug,  elaborately  painted  with  U.  C.  monogram  in 
blue  and  gold,  frat  letters  if  any,  name  of  wearer's  college, 
intercollegiate  scores  of  the  year  —  where  these  have  been 
favorable  —  and  other  decorations,  varying  with  the  taste 
and  artistic  ability  of  the  decorator.  Round  about  stroll 
the  new  sophomores,  canes  in  hand. 

"  Hy,  there,  Jim  !     There's  Percy  in  his  pluglet !  " 

Swish  !  whistles  George's  cane,  and  Percy's  plug  goes 
flying  from  his  head.  He  runs  after  it.  Biff !  goes  James' 
foot,  and  Percy  has  to  alter  his  course.  Stamp  !  goes  George 


Class  Day  205 


with  both  feet,  and  Percy's  plug  is  crushed  to  earth.  But 
all  this  does  not  exactly  displease  Percy,  for  that  plug  needs 
all  the  banging  up  it  can  get  in  order  to  arrive  at  its 
necessary  condition  of  decrepitude.  All  over  the  campus 
now  canes  and  sticks  are  swishing,  or  hands  grabbing  at 
heads.  Plugs,  black  and  gray,  are  flying  hither  and  thither, 
amidst  great  good-nature,  and  owners,  bareheaded,  are 
wildly  dashing  to  and  fro  to  the  rescue  of  their  headgear. 

With  a  flourish  from  the  band,  the  pilgrimage  has 
started — a  long,  trailing  column  of  fours,  with  the  co-eds  in 
front.  A  stop  will  be  made  at  each  building,  where  the 
column  will  listen  to  an  address,  humorous,  if  possible, 
from  a  class  representative. 

The  first  stop  is  made  at  South  Hall,  where  the  Best 
Beloved  of  all  the  professors  gives  the  outgoing  students, 
in  quavering,  high-pitched  voice,  reminiscences  of  the 
university's  early  days,  when  South  Hall's  corner-stone  had 
not  yet  been  laid,  intermixed  with  ethical  metaphors  and 
similes,  and  is  cheered  to  the  echo.  Standing  there,  bare- 
headed, in  the  strong  sun,  his  presence  and  words  are  as  a 
benediction  upon  his  beloved  children,  going  forth  to  face 
the  world.  This  is  the  first  sobering  impulse  that  they 
have  received,  and  their  answering  cheer  rings  out  deeper, 
from  the  heart. 

But  now  they  turn  to  lighter  things  —  to  an  address 
from  the  balcony  of  the  Library,  in  which  the  ' '  Prince  of 
Silence"  and  the  "Co-eds'  Favorite"  receive  their  accus^ 
tomed  mention  ;  to  the  Chemistry  Building,  where  mock 
experiments  are  conducted  ;  to  the  Mining  Building,  where 
the  jovial  "mining  push"  receives  mention  and  acclaim  ;  to 
the  Engineering  Building,  and,  completing  the  circuit,  to 


206         For  the  Blue  and  Gold 


North  Hall.  At  each  stop  there  is  a  plentiful  sprinkling  of 
joshes  on  professors  and  students.  Their  mistakes  and  their 
idiosyncrasies  are  brought  up  in  reminiscence  in  true  Blue 
and  Gold  style.  This  culminates  at  North  Hall. 

4  *  Where  do  we  come  when  we  want  to  get  in  out  of 
the  rain  ?  To  North  Hall,  you  say.  But  where  about  in 
North  Hall  ?  There  are  many  dry  spots  in  North  Hall  — 
there  are  the  deserts  of  math,  French,  history,  peda- 
gogy— all  unrelieved  by  a  single  oasis.  In  any  of  them 
may  we  find  refuge  from  the  damp.  But  there  is  one 
particular  room  where  it  is  so  dry  that  note-books  are 
shriveled  up  around  the  edges  —  that  is  the  juris  room  when 
Warren  is  reciting.  On  a  wet  day  you  may  see  a  mob 
following  at  Warren's  feet  like  the  children  after  the  Pied 
Piper.  Their  garments  hang  from  them,  dripping  and  limp. 
But  they  know  where  to  dry  off.  They  follow  Warren  to 
Room  19.  When  he  once  turns  on  his  hot-air  spout  you 
can  see  the  steam  arising  from  their  clothes.  That's  the 
dryest  spot  in  North  Hall,  which  means  in  college.  It's  a 
wonder  they  don' t  have  spontaneous  combustion  there  some 
day  when  Warren  has  the  class  in  charge. "  And  so  on,  to 
the  great  delight  of  the  appreciative  listeners,  amidst  whom 
stands  Warren,  smiling  sourly.  But  his  old  parents,  come 
over  to  sun  themselves  in  the  bright  glow  of  their  boy's 
distinction,  can  hardly  restrain  their  amazement  and  indig- 
nation. 

Lastly,  the  procession  wends  its  way  up,  between  the 
trees,  to  Founder's  Rock,  where  the  father  of  the  family 
draws  an  elaborate  analogy  from  the  beautiful  prospect  of 
the  bright,  sparkling  bay,  which  is  spread  before  and 
beneath  them. 


Class  Day  207 


Thus  ended  the  morning  ceremonies  of  the  class 
pilgrimage.  The  seniors  have  said  an  official  farewell  to  the 
beloved  old  buildings,  whose  halls  they  have  trodden  so 
often  in  the  few,  quickly  vanished  years.  But  the  farewell 
is  merely  official,  for  many  a  time  yet  will  they  come  wan- 
dering back,  singly,  to  the  old  scenes,  to  roam  over  the 
familiar  haunts,  now  inhabited  by  others,  with  faces  unfa- 
miliar and  strange. 

This  day  the  frat  houses  are  all  open  to  their  friends. 
Invitations  to  luncheon  have  been  given,  and  now  the 
happy  frat  men  —  thrice  proud  and  happy  if  they  happen 
to  be  white-ducked  seniors  —  promenade  grandly  off  with 
their  fair  young  guests,  while  others,  not  quite  so  happy, 
walk  around  explaining  to  distant  relations,  cousins  of  the 
fourth  dimension,  or  friend's  maiden  aunts:  "That  is 
the  Library  Building,"  "Here  is  South  Hall,"  "Down 
there  is  the  gridiron."  "  Gridiron  ?  "  "  Oh,  yes,  the  place 
where  they  play  football !"  "  This  is  the  way  out.  Now 
we  will  go  to  lunch —  Oh,  there  is  Jack,  now !  I  say,  Jack, 
hullo,  there !  " 

"  Good  morning,  Miss  Gray.  Have  you  been  saying 
good-by  ?  " 

"Yes,  Mr.  Rawson,  but  I  can't  realize  it.  It  seems 
but  yesterday  since  I  went  wandering  about  the  campus 
here,  trying  to  locate  the  various  buildings  and  wondering 
if  there  really  was  a  poultry-yard  —  I  had  heard  so  much 
about  the  Coop." 

"Ha,  ha,  that's  a  good  one  !  But  you  were  lucky  this 
morning.  I  didn't  hear  any  joshes  worked  off  on  you." 

"  No,  I'm  not  prominent  enough  for  that.     But  wasn't  it 


208         For  the  Blue  and  Gold 


cruel  the  way  Mr.  Thomson  joshed  Mr.  Warren  from  North 
Hall  steps  ?  His  parents  were  standing  near  me,  and  they 
seemed  to  take  it  to  heart. ' ' 

' '  Yes,  I  guess  they  did.  Most  likely  they  think  that 
Warren's  popularity  over  here  is  in  keeping  with  the 
number  of  ones  he  gets." 

1 '  He  is  greatly  misunderstood  by  most  of  the  students. 
They  incline  to  levity,  while  he  is  almost  too  serious.  But 
he  has  a  strong  character,  and  will  be  heard  from. ' ' 

' '  He  ought  to  take  a  P.  G.  course  in  the  cultivation  of 
the  sense  of  humor. ' ' 

' '  Yes,  and  that  is  what  makes  it  all  the  harder  for  him 
to  bear  joshing." 

"  Don't  have  too  much  sympathy  for  Warren,  Miss 
Gray.  Maybe  you'll  make  him  feel  worse  than  all  the 
joshing  could." 

"Oh,  that?"  The  color  mounted  to  her  temples. 
"  I  don't  think  there's  much  danger." 

'  *  Yes,  there  is,  and  I  —  that  is  we  —  I  mean  most  of 
the  fellows,  would  be  happy  to  see  you  get  it.  Your  work 
in  math  deserves  it." 

' '  Oh,  I  see,  you'  d  give  the  medal  out  on  dime  museum 
principles,  to  the  freak  co-ed  who  has  grouped  in  math?  " 

1 '  No,  not  that  only,  its  all  round  work.  I  wish  I  was 
on  the  faculty." 

1 '  Thanks.  For,  frankly,  I  would  be  more  than  glad 
to  get  the  medal.  The  prestige  would  help  me  to  a  high 
school  and  I  have  to  get  right  to  work." 

"  Well,  it's  settled,  then.  If  you'll  take  it,  it's  yours," 
and  they  both  laughed. 

After  lunch  the  crowd  wends  its  way  up  to  Ben  Weed's 


Class  Day  209 


Amphitheater,  where  the  grand  spectacular  extravaganza, 
"The  Chase  for  the  Holy  Grail,"  is  to  be  enacted  by  the 
members  of  the  graduating  class.  The  stage  is  lavishly 
decorated  in  blue  and  gold  and  the  college  colors  in  bunting 
are  stretched  from  tree  to  tree  overhead.  On  the  rising 
ground,  benchless,  in  front,  and  to  the  sides  of  the  stage, 
the  audience  has  seated  itself  and  is  squirming  around 
trying  to  find  soft  spots  of  ground  or  endeavoring  to  get 
out  of  the  way  of  the  other  fellow's  knees  and  feet.  The 
Berkeley  urchin  of  the  raggedest  degree  has  preempted  the 
space  in  immediate  proximity  to  the  stage.  Up  on  the 
highest  ground  in  back  the  new  upper  classmen  are  indulg- 
ing in  amiable  rough  house,  knocking  off  plugs  and 
kicking  them  about. 

But  now  the  blare  of  trumpets  is  heard  and  the  advance- 
guard  of  the  King  is  seen  winding  up  the  path  ;  maidens  in 
flowing  robes  and  sandals,  hatless,  their  hair  twined  with 
flowers,  strewing  paper  posies  in  the  coming  King's  path ; 
men  in  knightly  armor,  carrying  spears  and  battle-axes, 
step  stiffly  along  to  the  catcalls  of  their  friends  who  recog- 
nize them,  even  under  the  obscuring  garments.  They 
crowd  the  stage,  with  its  round  dining-table  in  its  center, 
and  fill  in  the  time  chanting  of  ' '  Fair  Berkeley,  fairer  than 
Camelot. ' ' 

Now  comes  the  King  and  his  immediate  retinue. 
"  Hail,  Arthur,  spotless  King  ! "  By  his  side  steps  queenly 
Guinevere  — ' '  Guinevere  Ninetyeven,  the  Queen  of 
Co-eds,"  as  the  program  names  her.  The  band  plays 
"Hail,  the  Conquering  Hero  Comes,"  and  Arthur  takes 
his  seat  on  an  empty  beer-keg  at  the  head  of  the  round 
table,  Guinevere  at  his  right. 


2IO 


For   the  Blue   and  Gold 


"And  what  of  the  puissant  knight,  Sir  Galahad? 
Hath  he  at  last  returned  from  his  long  four  years'  chase  for 
the  Holy  Grail?" 

"  That  he  hath,  noble  King,  and  even  now  is  approach- 
ing," comes  the  chorus. 

"  And  Merlin,  my  good  soothsayer,  my  standby,  is  he 
at  hand  to  tell  us  what  the  future  has  in  store  for  the  hosts 
of  ninety-even  ?  ' ' 

"  .Aye,  King,  he  is." 

A  blare  of  trumpets  and  Sir  Galahad  approaches  in 
dazzling  armor.  He  dismounts,  detaches  a  decrepit  wooden 
bucket  from  the  pummel  of  his  saddle,  and,  grasping  it  in 
his  hand,  rushes  up  to  the  King,  and,  prostrating  himself 
at  his  ruler's  feet,  holds  forth  the  bucket,  filled  with  rolls  of 
parchment. 

"My  King!  The  Holy  Grail!  At  last  I  have 
found  it !  " 

"Oh!     Ah!" 

' '  Faithful  knight !  Pure  Galahad  !  Thou  hast  fetched 
the  Holy  Grail.  We  are  saved  !  Now  we  can  graduate  ! 
Tell  us  thy  story  while  the  Grail  rests  on  the  table,  so  that 
our  faithful  subjects  may  feast  their  eyes  upon  it." 

The  knights  and  ladies  gather  closely  around  the  table, 
their  eyes  fastened  greedily  on  the  bucket  with  its  protrud- 
ing rolls,  which  they  may  not  touch. 

"  Speak  on,  Galahad,  speak  on  ! " 

Galahad  strikes  an  attitude  :  ' '  Four  years  ago,  come 
August  (ah,  green  was  I  then,  as  the  grass  that  grows  not 
on  the  campus  !),  I  set  out  from  the  borders  of  the  freshman 
country  to  search  for  the  Holy  Grail.  Of  all  the  happen- 
ings in  those  long  years  while  I  was  chasing  the  Grail  I  can 


Class  Day 


give  no  adequate  account,  O,  King  !  Sufficient  that  I  was 
true  to  my  mission.  On  North  Hall  steps  I  never  bummed, 
nor  appeased  my  thirst  at  the  Widow's  ;  neither  cut  I  reci- 
tation, drill  nor  gym,  but  spent  my  days  in  digging,  and 
my  nights  as  well. 

'  *  Therefore,  when  the  time  had  passed  and  the  last  final 
exes  were  o'er,  I  had  penetrated  up  to  the  margin  of  the 
forest,  in  the  depths  of  which  stands  Castle  Recorder, 
where,  as  I  had  been  led  to  expect,  I  would  find  the  Holy 
Grail.  Thenceforward  my  job  was  no  snap,  for  the  forest 
was  a  fearsome  place,  infested  by  many  dangers.  A  terrible 
tangle  of  red  tape  barred  the  way  at  the  outset,  which  I  had 
to  hack  and  hew  with  my  good  sword,  Bluff.  Then  there 
was  an  overgrowth  of  petitions,  of  prerequisites,  of  group 
electives,  and  the  pitfalls  of  the  study  lists  committee  lurked 
on  every  side,  while  the  deep  ditch  of  analytical  mechanics 
yawned  in  front.  Hither  and  thither  flew  the  fearsome 
cinch,  screeching  like  an  owl.  O  King,  it  was  no  pipe ! 

"But,  for  the  sake  of  ninety-even,  I  faltered  not. 
The  decisive  moment  came  at  last,  and  with  a  terrible 
'  Oski-Wow '  I  forced  my  way  to  the  innermost  chamber, 
where  sat  the  academic  senate.  Them  heeded  I  not,  but 
sprang  for  the  table,  where,  suffusing  a  terrible  radiance, 
which  my  eyes  scarce  could  bear,  stood  the  Holy  Grail  filled 
to  the  very  neck  with  degrees.  I  shut  my  eyes  and 
grabbed,  and,  as  my  fist  closed  o'er  its  handle,  a  delicious 
thrill  ran  through  my  frame  !  Then  my  frame  ran  through 
the  door,  and  in  a  minute  I  was  out.  All  obstacles  faded 
away  before  the  potency  of  my  treasure.  King,  I  close. 
You  know  the  rest. ' ' 

' '  Well  done,  my  true  and  faithful  servant !     Ere  night 


212 


For  the   Blue  and  Gold 


falls  thou  wilt  sup  free  beer  at  our  expense,"  speaks  the 
king. 

Now  ensues  a  hubbub.  Knights  and  ladies  at  the 
table  are  burning  to  get  at  the  contents  of  the  Grail.  '  *  But 
no!"  commands  the  king.  "First,  must  we  hear  from 
Merlin,  our  most  wise  seer.  Perchance  some  there  are  not 
worthy  to  receive  the  great  boon.  The  test  for  fitness  must 
register  full  125  units  —  and  —  we  shall  see.  Merlin  will 
tell." 

"Hail  Merlin,  the  wise!" 

This  is  the  opportunity,  dragged  in  by  the  heels,  for 
the  most  enjoyable  part  of  the  entertainment  —  the  joshes 
on  faculty  and  students.  Merlin,  the  best  "josher"  in  the 
class,  fixed  up  in  a  tall  cap  and  a  long  gown,  decorated 
with  cabalistic  devices,  hobbles  around  the  stage,  pulling  at 
his  long  beard.  The  king  commands  him  : 

"Merlin,  let  no  unworthy  knight  or  lady  co-ed  escape. 
Search  their  innermost  hearts,  and  if  aught  unfit  shows  its 
head  —  if  any  have  not  chastened  their  spirits  sufficiently 
by  taking  enough  hours  or  have  cut  or  bluffed,  proclaim  it 
out.  Now  is  the  time  to  forbid  the  bans  if  any  wight  there 
be  of  ninety-even  who  is  not  entitled  to  wed  his  fair  lady 
diploma." 

Merlin  hobbles  about,  listening  to  heart-beats,  using  his 
telescope  and  cutting  up  appropriate  antics  with  certain 
knights  and  ladies. 

"  Here,  sire,  is  one  who  hath  the  sin  of  bluffing  graven 
on  his  soul,"  pulling  forth  the  worst  "  bum  ' '  in  the  class. 

"Ha!"  The  king's  brow  clouds.  "Brick,  what 
hath  thou  to  say  for  thyself?  Speak  up,  or  by  the  keg  I 
sit  on,  thou  shalt  languish  here  chained  to  North  Hall  steps 


Class  Day  213 


until  the  puling  freshman  wears  a  black  plug.  Speak  and 
defend  thyself!" 

"O  King,  most  gracious  !  Bluff  I  have.  But  was  it 
not  justified?  Is  a  fellow  to  flunk  miserably,  time  after 
time,  without  an  effort  ?  No.  No  man  of  spirit  would  ! 
I  would  not  be  worthy  to  wear  the  pin  of  ninety-even 
an  I  did.  King,  it  was  this  way :  At  9 :25  I  had  a 
recitation,  but  preceding  that,  one  at  8:30  in  the  Daily 
Calif ornian.  After  reading  through  its  editorials,  say,  O 
King  !  Can  a  man  be  fit  for  anything  else  that  day  ?  " 

"Thou  craven  !  "  shouts  the  King,  livid  with  rage. 
' '  Knowest  thou  I  write  them  ?  Dog  !  I  sentence  thee  to 
four  years  at  Stanford  !  Away  with  him  ! ' ' 

The  poor  wretch  grovels  at  his  King's  feet,  tapping  his 
mailed  breast  and  moaning,  ' '  My  life,  take  my  life,  but 
send  me  not  to  such  an  awful  fate  ! ' ' 

The  King  is  appalled  at  his  own  severity.  He  relents. 
' '  Unhappy  Brick !  The  word  is  said  and  can  not  be 
unsaid.  But  Arthur  is  gracious.  He  grants  that  thou  may 
there  make  thy  group  in  gym  and  decorative  art. ' ' 

And  thus  the  joshing  runs  on,  scarce  one,  many  a  mem- 
ber of  the  faculty  included,  escaping.  Merlin  foretells  the 
future  of  the  blushing  girl  graduates,  to  the  intense  enjoyment 
of  their  classmates  and  to  the  embarrassment  of  not  a  few. 

When  the  Grail  has  been  emptied  of  its  parchment 
rolls,  each  recipient,  represented  by  a  classmate,  acknowl- 
edg'"ig  with  a  typical  speech,  the  King  exclaims  : 

"But  the  medal?  Surely,  Galahad,  thou  hast  not 
failed?'1 

"  Not  on  thy  birthday,  King, "  assures  Galahad. 
' '  Even  now  it  is  approaching. ' ' 


214         For  the  Blue  and  Gold 


Two  slaves  are  seen  working  their  way  through  the 
crowd  bearing  a  litter,  on  which  is  a  cushion. 

They  advance  to  the  King,  and,  kneeling,  hold  the 
cushion  before  him. 

"  The  medal !  "     A  murmur  buzzes  around  the  table. 

"  Yes,  my  loyal  subjects,  the  medal.  And  for  whom  I 
need  not  mention. ' ' 

"Warren,  Warren  !"  answers  everybody.  "Yes,  for 
Warren,  the  man  who  never  got  a  second  section.  Step 
forth,  Sir  Warren,  and  receive  thy  long- worked -for  reward. 
No  more  shalt  thou  be  sourballed,  but  frisk  and  frolic 
joyfully  with  thy  medal  dangling  from  thy  buttonhole. ' ' 

A  morose-looking  individual,  caricaturing  Warren, 
advances  with  measured  tread.  The  King  lifts  an  immense 
pie-plate  from  the  cushion  and  holds  it  up.  In  black  letters 
is  the  inscription,  "  Now,  Give  Us  a  Rest."  He  ties  it  by 
a  leathern  thong  upon  the  morose  individual's  lapel. 
Instantly  a  transformation  takes  place  in  the  latter 's  bearing. 
For  a  moment  he  gazes,  transfixed,  on  the  pie-plate,  then 
jumps  high  into  the  air,  emitting  a  shout,  and,  coming 
down,  bolts  from  the  platform.  The  show  is  over. 

"Wouldn't  it  be  a  funny  josh,  Percy,"  exclaims 
James,  as  they  walk  home,  "if  that  should  be  the  only 
medal  Warren  gets  ! ' ' 

"  The  wish  is  father  to  the  thought,  hey,  Jim?  " 

"Maybe  it  is." 

"  So  is  mine,  old  man." 


CHAPTER  XV 
The   Dark   Horse 


The  remnant  of  Mrs.  Saunders'  select  student  boarders 
was  gathered  for  its  midday  meal  on  the  day  preceding 
commencement.  All  the  freshmen  had  left.  Davis 
was  awaiting  his  degree,  with  which  he  would  make  a  bee- 
line  for  home.  Hawley  was  hanging  on  for  the  rest  of  the 
festivities  attendant  upon  graduation,  although  with  the 
latter  ceremony  itself  he  had  nothing  in  common  that  year. 

"I  say,  Hawley,  don't  you  begin  to  wish  about  this 
time  that  you'd  let  football  alone,  stuck  to  business  and 
gone  out  with  the  rest  of  us  ?  " 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  !  General  Remorse  does  sieze  my 
works  at  intervals,  but  I  always  shake  him  off.  This  is  a 
pretty  good  place  to  spend  another  year  at." 

"Won't  next  year  be  the  same  as  this?  You'll  soon 
be  taking  a  K.  Q.  course." 

"No,  it  can't  really  last  more  than  one  after  this. 
Next  year  I'll  have  played  four  times,  and  if  they  cinch  me 
out  again,  why,  the  year  following,  when  there  won't  be 
any  more  football,  I'll  surely  make  it.  I'm  going  to  stay 
over  and  keep  Jim  company.  You'll  promise  not  to 
graduate  without  me,  won't  you,  Jim  ?"  laughing. 

"  Yes,  I'll  wait  for  you  if  you'll  wait  for  me." 

"I  shall  use  my  influence  with  the  faculty, "  broke  in 
Mrs.  Saunders,  "so  that  they  won't  hurry  either  of  you. 


a  1 6         For  the   Blue  and  Gold 


I'm  not  going  to  put  in  a  new  stair-carpet  as  long  as  two 
prominent  football  men  are  living  up-stairs.  I've  made  that 
agreement  with  my  daughter,  and  I  hope  it'll  put  off  the 
day  as  long  as  possible."  Mrs.  Saunders  was  trying  to  be 
pleasant  in  the  days  of  farewell. 

"Where's  Miss  Gray?"  inquired  Davis. 

"She's  over  in  town  at  the  oculist's.  Her  eyes  just 
lasted  her  through  her  final  exes.  Then  they  went  all  to 
pieces.  Anyway,  it  always  seemed  to  me  as  if  she  were 
near-sighted  and  needed  glasses." 

"There  are  lots  of  things  that  one  needs  and  can't 
have,"  decided  Mrs.  Saunders.  "There's  as  brave  a  girl 
as  I  ever  saw.  For  the  four  years  she  has  been  here  she  has 
.skimped  and  saved  and  worked  —  there's  not  many  that 
know  how  hard  —  so  that  she  could  get  her  degree  and 
a  teacher's  certificate  and  support  her  little  mother  in 
comfort." 

"  I  didn't  know  she  had  a  mother.  She  doesn't  seem 
to  have  any  visits  from  relatives. ' ' 

"Her  mother  teaches  music  up  in  Sacramento. 
They've  seen  each  other  just  twice  in  four  years.  It  costs 
money  to  travel.  There's  not  many  men  would  have 
made  the  fight  they  have.  Facing  it  out  all  alone,  asking 
favors  of  no  one.  Don't  talk  to  me  of  co-eds  and  woman's 
inequality.  Can  you  show  any  better  men  in  mathe- 
matics —  your  own  study  ?  ' '  Mrs.  Saunders  looked 
around  with  argument  in  her  eye,  forgetting  her  reso- 
lution to  be  genial. 

"There's  your  chance,  Davis,"  waived  Hawley. 
41 Co-education,  your  favorite  topic.  Pick  up  the  gauntlet." 

"Guess  not;  I'm  afraid  of  Rawson,"  grinned  Davis. 


The  Dark   Horse  217 


"What's  the  latest  news  about  the  medal?  It  gets 
decided  today,  doesn't  it?"  asked  Mrs.  Saunders  of 
James. 

"Yes,  they're  at  it  now,  but  we  won't  hear  of  it  until 
commencement. ' ' 

"I  do  hope  that  fellow  Warren  doesn't  get  it.  He's 
so  unpopular,  I  hear.  I  don't  like  his  looks,  anyhow." 

"He  won't  get  it  on  his  looks.  It's  a  close  thing, 
though.  If  Warren  were  a  fellow  that  had  taken  a  promi- 
nent part  in  student  activities  there's  not  much  question  but 
what  he'  d  get  it  against  an  unknown  co-ed  —  young  lady,  I 
mean  —  even  if  she  had  a  few  more  first  sections. ' ' 

"  Most  everybody  thinks  that  Warren  has  a  mortgage 
on  it.  But  isn't  it  funny  how  prominent  Miss  Gray  has 
become  in  the  last  week?  Before  that  there  was  hardly 
any  one  knew  her.  Now  she's  Allah,  and  Rawson,  here,  is 
her  prophet, "  spoke  Davis. 

11  So  would  you  be  if  you'd  spent  all  those  cozy  even- 
ings in  the  parlor  over  math." 

"  Don't  joke  him,  gentlemen,  you'd  be  lucky  if  it  was 
either  one  of  you." 

The  last  official  day  of  the  college  year,  the  last  college 
day  for  many  a  sober  senior,  had  dawned  at  length.  The 
big  tent  erected  down  on  the  gridiron  for  holding  the  com- 
mencement exercises  was,  by  ten  in  the  morning,  filled  to 
overflowing.  Over  at  Stiles  Hall  the  long,  begowned  line 
formed — president,  regents,  faculty,  candidates  and  others. 
Slowly,  with  measured  tread,  it  wended  its  way  across  the 
campus,  and,  entering  the  tent,  forked  into  two  columns. 
The  importants  made  their  way  to  seats  on  the  palm- 
bedecked  platform  at  the  front,  while  the  candidates  took 


2i 8         For  the  Blue  and  Gold 


their  places  at  either  side,  to  right  and  left  of  the  platform. 
The  orchestra  played  heavy  music  from  Wagner. 

"Look,  Jim,  there's  Miss  Gray  with  a  pair  of  windows 
on  !  "  exclaimed  Percy. 

James  tried  to  turn  his  head  not  too  hastily,  but  his 
eyes  sought  the  direction  indicated  quicker  than  he  meant 
them  to.  Sure  enough,  there  was  Miss  Gray,  looking  as 
he  had  never  seen  her  before  ;  in  a  black  gown  and  mortar- 
board. From  beneath  the  gown's  hem  a  white,  fluffy  dress 
could  be  discerned,  suggesting  that  all  was  not  as  somber  as 
it  seemed.  Her  brown  hair  was  smoothed  carefully  around 
her  ears.  Sure  enough,  there  was  a  pair  of  spectacles, 
which  she  shifted  nervously  and  consciously.  And  the  two 
vertical  lines  between  her  eyes,  that  had  seemed  as  a  frown, 
were  gone ! 

"My!  She  wasn't  frowning  at  all;  she  was  near- 
sighted !"  James  ejaculated,  half  aloud,  half  to  himself. 

"  Hey  ?     She  never  frowned  at  you,  did  she,  Jim?  ' ' 

' '  No,  she  never  frowned  at  anybody.  She  was  only 
trying  to  get  a  focus." 

"  They've  improved  her  looks  like  everything.  She's 
regular  Bostonese  now,  don't  you  think  ?  " 

Soon  the  audience  composed  itself  as  the  prayer  was 
delivered.  Then  some  lighter  music.  Now  the  president 
made  his  * '  statement, ' '  which  included  some  fatherly  advice 
to  the  graduates.  Next,  a  couple  of  addresses  by  mem- 
bers of  the  graduating  class,  one  of  them  by  Warren  : 
"What  does  the  University  Stand  For  ?  " 

"What  does  the  university  stand  for?"  began 
Warren,  slowly,  looking  down  aggressively  at  his  audience. 
And  his  answer,  though  in  manner  typically  Warrenesque, 


The   Dark   Horse  219 


formally  logical,  was  in  matter  so  infused  with  what  was 
pronounced  real  ' '  college  spirit ' '  that  his  college  mates 
listened,  by  turns  incredulous  and  amazed,  and  at  the  end 
gave  him  such  a  rally  that  Warren  stumbled  to  his  seat, 
swallowing  hard  to  keep  the  lump  down. 

After  their  four  years'  acquaintance  with  the  week-day 
Warren,  repressed  and  misunderstood,  his  college  mates 
had  here  gotten  a  flash-like  glimpse  of  Warren,  potential. 
And  casting  from  their  minds  the  Warren  whom  they  had 
known  practically,  they  were  cheering  lustily  for  him  whose 
acquaintance  they  had  made  through  the  medium  of  his 
paper  but  fifteen  minutes  before. 

1 '  If  he'  d  only  done  that  instead  of  merely  saying  it, 
he'd  be  a  happier  man  today,"  whispered  Percy. 

Now  came  the  event  of  the  day  —  the  distribution  of 
degrees.  As  each  candidate  bowed  up  at  the  platform,  he 
received  a  rattle  of  hand  claps  in  proportion  to  his  popu- 
larity and  the  number  of  his  relations  present. 

"  Give  her  a  rally,  Jim,"  nudged  George,  as  the  presi- 
dent called,  "Harriet  Evelyn  Gray."  James  was  a  little 
backward  until  he  found  that  he  was  by  no  means  alone. 
All  over  the  tent  co-eds  were  splitting  their  gloves  in  honor 
of  the  sex,  and,  looking  across  the  aisle,  James  saw  Mrs. 
Saunders,  red  in  the  face  from  her  exertions.  Warren,  too, 
received  liberal  applause.  He  afterwards  said  :  "I  got 
nearer  to  my  classmates  in  that  one  hour  than  in  all  the 
rest  of  the  four  years  put  together.  I  never  thought  that 
the  fellows  had  so  much  real  feeling  in  them." 

But  what  is  that  uneasy  rustling  that  animates  the 
audience  ?  The  last  degree  has  been  called  out,  and  there 
is  a  pause.  "  He's  going  to  give  the  medal ! " 


22O 


For  the   Blue   and   Gold 


The  venerable  president  advances  to  the  front  of  the 
platform,  a  square,  flat,  plush  case  in  his  hand.  He  pauses 
deliberately.  Briefly  he  recites  the  old  tale  of  the  founda- 
tion of  the  medal  and  of  its  bestowal  each  year  upon  "the 
graduate  who  shall  be  adjudged  to  have  gained  the  highest 
distinction  in  scholarship."  He  pauses  and  looks  at  the 
open  plush  box  as  if  to  make  sure  of  the  name  : 

"  Miss  Harriet  Evelyn  Gray,  kindly  step  forward." 

The  audience  breathes  a  sigh.  Hands  clap.  Then,  as 
a  slim,  black-gowned  form  arises  from  a  side  bench  and 
advances  to  the  front,  the  starting  ripple  of  applause  swells 
to  a  torrent,  and  from  the  rear  of  the  tent  some  enthusiast, 
forgetting  his  decorum,  shouts  out  :  "What's  the  matter 
with  Miss  Gray  ?  ' ' 

Percy  gives  James  an  emphatic  poke  in  the  ribs. 

The  president  is  not  going  to  waste  any  words. 

'  *  Miss  Gray,  I  confide  this  emblem  of  high  scholarship 
to  your  keeping,  reminding  you  that  it  carries  grave 
responsibilities  with  it."  That  was  all.  The  dark  horse 
had  won  ! 

She  took  the  medal  as  if  she  were  afraid  of  it  and 
walked  unsteadily  back  to  her  seat,  amidst  a  din  of  hand- 
clapping  and  stamping.  What  emotions  were  surging 
through  the  breast  of  this  slight  girl  in  that  minute ! 
Milton  could  scarce  have  sung  them.  Nor  scarce  Dante 
those  that  throbbed  the  temples  of  yon  black-haired  youth 
with  the  hectic  flush  on  his  cheeks.  Four  years  of  tense, 
unremitting  struggle,  to  this  result !  It  was  not  possible  ! 
But,  nevertheless,  he  was  afraid  to  glance  to  either  side  into 
the  face  of  father  or  mother,  sitting  there  with  hearts  of 
lead. 


The   Dark   Horse 


"That  was  easier  given  than  earned,  wasn't  it?  I 
guess  the  show  is  over.  Let's  chase  ourselves,"  suggested 
Percy. 

"No,  wait  a  moment.  They're  going  to  give  a  list  of 
the  scholarships.  Let's  see  who  get  them. " 

The  list  was  a  long  one,  ' '  from  Siskiyou  to  San  Diego, 
from  the  Sierras  to  the  sea, ' '  ranging  in  degree  from  fellow- 
ships of  five  hundred  dollars  per  year  to  State  of  California 
and  Levi  Strauss  scholarships  of  one  hundred  and  twenty- 
five  dollars.  At  length  the  reader  was  on  this  last  list,  and 
Percy  was  beginning  to  yawn,  when  the  voice  called  out : 
"Seventh Congressional  District,  James  Rawson,  Riverside." 

Percy  straightened  up.  "  Hullo,  Jim  !  That's  you  ! 
Congrats  !  You  are  a  deep  one  !  Why  didn't  you  tell  a 
fellow  about  it  ?  " 

"So  there  wouldn't  be  anything  to  explain  if  I  didn't 
get  it.  But  don't  you  remember  our  talking  about  scholar- 
ships a  month  back,  and  my  advising  Cub  and  you  to 
apply?" 

"Yes,  that's  so.  My,  but  won't  you  be  a  bleed  next 
year  with  this  and  with  that?  You  won't  stoop  to  go  with 
the  Oski-Wow  Chewers." 

"Wait  and  see." 

That  evening  in  the  parlor,  Miss  Gray  was  the  center  of 
attraction.  She  looked  flushed  and  tired.  The  reaction 
was  setting  in. 

At  length  the  company  had  dwindled.  "  Well,  I  guess 
I'll  finish  my  packing,"  announced  Davis.  "I'm  off  in 
the  morning." 

James  found  himself  alone  in  the  room  with  Miss  Gray. 
He  rose  to  go,  seeing  how  tired  she  looked. 


222 


For  the  Blue  and  Gold 


"  I  haven't  had  a  chance  yet  to  congratulate  you,  Mr. 
Rawson,  on  your  scholarship.  Let  me  do  so  now.  You've 
made  a  fine  start,  and  I  expect  you  to  continue  at  an  accel- 
erated gait.  College  holds  large  things  in  store  for  you. ' ' 

"Thank  you.  I'm  sure  I  couldn't  do  better  than 
copy  from  you." 

"No,  don't  do  it."  She  shook  her  head  positively. 
"  I  made  a  big  mistake  in  shutting  myself  up  too  much  in 
my  room.  I  know  that  everybody  has  thought  me  an  owl- 
like  dig.  You  have  done  better.  You  haven' t  neglected 
your  work,  and  at  the  same  time  have  entered  heartily  into 
the  life  outside  the  recitation-room.  I  advise  you  to  keep 
that  up.  Combine  the  two  in  an  even  balance  and  you 
won't  fee^as  tired  as  I  do  on  your  Commencement  Day.' ' 

"But  you  women  haven't  the  chance  for  outside 
activity  that  men  have.  You  can't  go  in  for  rushes  and 
Bourdons,  nor  play  football,  nor  go  out  much  at  nights." 

"  No,  we  can't.  But  there  are  many  things  we  could 
do  to  make  life  more  cheerful  for  one  another  if  we'd  be  to 
one  another  like  men  are.  Women  make  it  so  hard  for 
their  sex.  Don't  you  think  that  I  craved  something  more 
than  just  to  dig,  dig  ?  What  was  there  for  me  to  do  with 
my  own  living  to  earn,  and  no  nice  clothes,  but  just  crawl 
into  my  shell  ?  "  Her  speech  was  becoming  tense. 

"I  don't  know.  It's  a  hard  problem,"  answered 
James,  acknowledging  that  the  subject  was  too  much  for 
him.  "But  now  you've  had  the  reward  of  your  labors. 
Your  hour  of  triumph  has  come,  and  it'll  be  easier  sailing. 
You  ought  to  feel  pretty  good.  I  would  in  your  place. ' ' 

"No,  you  wouldn't,"  positively.  "I  thought  just  as 
you  do  now.  But  when  I  got  what  they  call  the  reward,  it 


The  Dark   Horse  223 


was  not  the  sweet  thing  I  imagined  at  all.  There's  nothing 
now  that  can  repay  me  for  the  four  years  I've  been  through. 
The  work  has  been  sweet,  but  the  rest,  oh,  how  bitter  ! 
Without  my  mother;  without  anybody.  I'm  afraid  it  will 
last  always." 

"Oh,  no  it  won't!  You'll  soon  forget  the  bad,  and 
retain  only  the  good,  when  you've  had  a  little  rest." 

"I  hope  so."  Her  voice  sounded  the  weariness  that 
possessed  her. 

James  started  forward  to  say  good-night. 

Suddenly,  without  a  word,  she  threw  herself  upon  the 
lounge,  and,  burying  her  head  in  her  arms,  sobbed  as  James 
had  never  heard  a  woman  cry  before.  Her  form  heaved 
and  trembled  with  the  excess  of  her  emotions.  James  did 
not  know  what  to  do.  Here  was  a  new  phase  of  this 
strong,  self-contained  girl's  character.  He  was  sounding 
new  depths  of  knowledge  of  the  strangely  mingled  strength 
and  weakness  that  is  woman's.  He  turned  aside  to  a  small 
table,  picking  over  the  leaves  of  an  album,  pained  and 
embarrassed,  not  knowing  how  to  comfort  her.  He  did 
not  know  that  the  best  thing  would  have  been  to  leave  the 
room  and  let  her  have  her  cry  out.  It  was  the  safety-valve 
of  her  nervous  system. 

For  several  minutes,  her  head  buried  in  her  arms,  the 
sobs  continued  to  shake  her  frame.  Gradually  her  emotion 
subsided.  Slowly  she  sat  up,  her  eyes  shining  dimly 
through  her  tears,  her  hair  dishevelled.  Quickly  she  tried 
to  cover  up  the  "traces  of  disorder.  James  turned.  He 
could  not  help  the  thought,  even  in  his  compassion,  of  how 
alluring  she  looked  with  her  hair  so  mussed  up. 

"Pardon  me,   I   beg  of  you,   Mr.    Rawson."      She 


124        For  the  Blue  and  Gold 


smiled  wanly  through  her  tears.  ' '  F  ve  been  playing  baby. 
But  I  felt  that  I  couldn't  fight  it  off  a  moment  longer,  and  it 
I  had  to  have  a  witness,  I'd  rather  you  than  anybody." 

She  rose.  James  grasped  her  hand  in  both  of  his. 
"  You're  tired  Miss  Gray.  Things  will  look  better  in  the 
morning, ' '  he  said,  comfortingly. 

"I'm  sure  they  will,"  she  replied. 

James  became  conscious  that  he  was  still  holding  her 
hand  and  in  an  unusual  manner.  He  dropped  it  suddenly, 
blushing.  She  lowered  her  eyes. 

''Good-night,   Mr.    Rawson.     I'll  see  you  before  we 

go." 

He  walked  up-stairs  into  his  room  and  got  into  bed  in  a 
haze.  "  I'd  never  have  thought  it  of  her.  She  went  all  to 
pieces  in  a  minute.  She  never  before  even  talked  a  word 
about  herself.  Poor  girl,  she's  had  a  hard  pull  of  it ! 
Many  a  fellow  wouldn't  have  gotten  through  it.  It's 
not  right  to  put  all  that  on  a  woman."  James  had  no 
friend  to  whom  he  would  have  confided  the  dreams  which 
that  night  mingled  with  his  sleep. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

0-u-t  Spells   Out 

"  What  do  you  intend  to  do  with  your  vacation,  Mr. 
Rawson?  "  asked  Mrs.  Saunders  next  morning. 

'  *  Mr.  Hunter  and  myself  are  going  to  try  canvassing 
for  the  Chautauqua  desk.' ' 

"  Is  there  much  in  that  ?  " 

"I  think  there  is.  But  it  depends,  of  course,  upon 
one's  gift  of  gab  and  the  hardness  of  his  cheek.  My  cheek 
will  do,  but  the  talk  part  has  to  be  tested.  I've  been 
speaking  to  several  fellows,  though,  who've  averaged  pretty 
well  at  it.  We'll  get  two  dollars  and  thirty  cents  commis- 
sion for  each  sold.  Two  a  day  wouldn't  be  bad." 

"  No  ;  it  depends,  though,  on  where  you  sell." 

"We've  got  Marin  County  for  our  territory.  There 
are  a  good  many  Swiss  and  Italian  farmers  and  dairymen 
there.  They're  all  pretty  well  off,  and,  I  hear,  loosen  up  on 
occasions.  Maybe  we  can  hypnotize  them  into  seeing  the 
advantages  of  our  indispensable  article.  I  won't  always 
expect  the  luck,  though,  that  I  had  yesterday.  I  was  in  a 
house  back  in  Oakland.  Looking  down  the  hall,  I  could 
see  through  an  open  door  into  a  neighbor's  back  yard. 
There  stood  a  little  girl  making  pictures  on  the  fence  with  a 
piece  of  chalk.  I  happened  to  have  another  fellow's 
sample,  so  I  made  a  break  for  the  front  door  of  that  house. 
I  managed  to  work  the  mother  out  into  the  back  yard, 


226         For   the   Blue   and  Gold 


where  my  argument  was  all  figured  out  for  me  on  the  fence. 
The  child  clapped  her  hands,  the  mother  said  yes,  and  in 
five  minutes  I  had  my  first  order. ' ' 

"I'm  afraid  that  I'll  have  to  look  around  for  another 
man  next  year. ' '  The  old  lady  sighed. 

"  But  I'll  hold  it  open  for  you.  You'll  give  me  first 
call,  won't  you?"  Another  sigh.  "I  always  wanted  a 
son  to  uphold  me  in  my  old  age,  and,  somehow — some 
way  —  you  seem  to  have  come  nearer  it  than  any  yet." 
She  wiped  her  eyes  with  the  corner  of  her  apron.  James 
took  her  hand. 

"I'll  always  remember  you,  Mrs.  Saunders,  as  the  first 
friend  I  had  here.  If  I  work  for  anybody  next  year  I'll 
want  it  to  be  for  you." 

1 '  Thank  you.     When  do  you  leave  ? ' ' 

"  Tomorrow  morning  if  we  get  the  samples.  They've 
been  holding  us  back  too  long  now." 

"Well,  Perce,  we  can't  cling  on  much  longer,  though 
it's  hard  breaking  away.  The  samples  have  come," 
announced  James  later. 

' '  Hooray  !    We'll  be  off  in  a  bunch  tomorrow  morning.' ' 

"Where's  Cub?" 

"  Here  he  is  ;  say,  boys,  I've  got  it  !"  George  broke 
breathlessly  in. 

"What?" 

"  No  more  harvester  in  mine  this  trip."  He  was 
moving  up  and  down  as  if  working  with  a  pick. 

"  What  is  it  ?     What  have  you  got,  the  jimjams  ?  " 

' '  No,  a  job  in  the  celebrated  Jumper  Mine,  Jimtown, 
Tuolumne  County. ' ' 


0-u-t  .Spells   Out 


"Good  enough,  Cub  !" 

"Shake!" 

"Put  it  there!  " 

' '  Hooray  for  the  '  mining  push  ! '  "  They  caught 
hold  of  George's  arm,  pulling  him  around  and  slapping  him 
on  the  back. 

"  How  did  you  get  it  ?  " 

"  Let  go  and  I'll  tell  you.  You  see,  I  was  wandering 
around  in  the  Crocker  Building  over  in  town  where  there 
are  offices  of  several  mining  companies.  I  hardly  expected 
to  get  a  job,  but  thought  that  maybe  I  could  get  some 
pointers.  Pretty  soon  I  came  in  front  of  a  door  lettered 
*  Jumper  Gold  Syndicate  of  California,  Limited. '  I  braced 
in.  There  was  a  fellow  hanging  over  a  desk  talking  to 
another  guy.  I  braced  him.  He  sized  me  up.  '  College 
student?'  'Yes,  but  I'm  looking  for  work,  not  snaps.' 
He  reaches  over  to  a  glass  case  and  tosses  me  a  couple  of 
specimens  of  minerals,  and  tells  me  to  name  the  constitu- 
ents. I  guessed  right.  Well,  the  upshot  of  it  is  that  the 
guy  was  the  superintendent  himself,  visiting  town,  and  he 
told  me  to  report  next  Monday  at  the  mine.  Two  and  a 
half  per.  Maybe  you'll  make  more,  but  I'll  manage  to 
save  enough,  and  just  think  of  the  experience  !  "  George's 
eyes  danced. 

"  That'll  give  you  some  idea  of  what  digging  really  is, 
hey,  Cub  ?  " 

"  You  bet !     It'll  beat  digging  for  exes  all  to  pieces." 

The  full  moon,  mounting  the  tops  of  the  hills  in  back, 
shone  down  upon  the  campus,  bathing  its  familiar  scenes 
in  a  mellow  brightness,  and  blending  strange,  unaccustomed 


228        For  the   Blue,  and  Gold 


lights  and  shades  out  of  the  buildings  and  trees.  Not  a 
breath  disturbed  the  leaves.  Nature  had  subsided  into 
a  peaceful,  cool  quiet,  after  the  pulsating  heat  of  the  early 
summer  day.  Strangely  alone  and  unfamiliar  seemed  the 
one  living  figure  in  all  the  scarcely  breathing  repose, 
though  the  figure  itself  might  have  been  a  part  of  the 
landscape,  for  so  long  time  stood  it  motionless,  looming 
with  softened  outline  in  the  soft,  white  light. 

Nine  months  before  had  James  stood  on  the  same  South 
Hall  steps,  drinking  in  the  daytime  beauty  of  the  scene 
spread  out  below  him.  Then  all  was  suggestive  of  life, 
from  the  animated  paths  of  the  campus  to  the  bay  out 
beyond,  where  the  vessels  were  plowing  the  sparkling 
waters.  And  his  mind,  too,  had  reflected  the  animation  of 
the  scene,  had  teemed  with  thoughts  of  action,  of  things  to 
be  done  and  ends  to  be  achieved. 

How  quiet  now  the  scene !  Typical  of  repose  after 
labor. 

Old  North  Hall  opposite,  standing  peacefully,  with 
outlines  softened  in  the  mellow  light,  gave  no  suggestion  of 
the  bustle  which  had  but  ceased  to  echo  within  its  halls. 
And  down  below,  the  oaks,  not  a  leaf  stirring  in  their  low- 
sweeping  limbs,  stood  as  massive  sentinels  to  guard  the 
boundaries  of  the  slumbering  campus. 

' '  Dear  old  campus  !  What  you  have  been  to  me  in 
this  past  year  I  can  never,  never  tell. "  His  voice  choked, 
he  felt  the  lump  rise  in  his  throat,  and  big  Jim  Rawson  tried 
hard  to  force  back  two  warm  tears  that  had  welled  up  into 
his  eyes.  The  lovely  scene  before  him  had  wrought  so 
strongly  on  his  emotions  that  the  campus  spoke  to  him  as  if 
alive,  embodying  in  itself  and  standing  as  symbol  for  all  the 


Q-u-t  Spells   Out  229 


beloved  things  that  had  gone  to  make  his  first  year  at 
college  the  best  year  of  his  life.  The  memories,  sweet  and 
strong,  surged  through  him  till  he  tingled,  and  he  spoke  out 
to  the  campus  in  reply  with  that  love  which  gushes  when 
the  young  man  meets  the  " first  one."  Had  he  not  met 
the  ' '  first  one ' '  unknowingly  ?  Was  it  not  that  the  spring 
had  been  tapped  and  that  that  pure  love  for  college  which 
was  now  welling  up  from  the  youth's  heart  was  love  poten- 
tial, which  should  glorify  the  man's  life  with  an  appreciation 
of  what  is  lovable  ? 

With  a  tarrying  look,  James  turned  to  go,  the  peace  of 
the  campus  lying  deeply  upon  him,  stilling  for  a  time  the 
currents  of  ambition,  but  not  quelling  them,  for  in  the 
deepest  channels  of  his  being  they  were  coursing  along, 
unrestrained,  unrestrainable. 

Arriving  home,  he  discerned  a  woman's  figure,  bare- 
headed, leaning  over  the  gate.  "Good  evening,  Miss 
Gray.  Enjoying  the  moon,  I  see.' ' 

"Yes,  I  couldn't  stay  indoors.  It  was  so  alluring. 
You  don't  suppose  I  was  going  to  give  you  a  monopoly  of 
this  beautiful  night,  do  you  ? ' ' 

"  I  could  not  be  so  selfish." 

1 '  Have  you  been  saying  good-by  to  the  campus  ? ' ' 

"Well,  I  was  just  strolling  over  there  a  bit.  It  looks 
quite  different  in  the  moonlight.  You'd  barely  think  it  had 
ever  been  alive.' ' 

"I  went  the  rounds  today,  saying  good-by  to  all  the 
little  nooks  and  benches.  It'll  probably  be  many  a  long 
day  before  I  see  the  campus  again." 

"  Why,  are  you  going  far  away  ?  " 

"Not  so  far.     But,  if  I  go  it'll  be  far   enough.     In 


230         For   the   Blue   and  Gold 


fact,  I  don't  know  for  certain.  It's  not  settled  yet,  so  I 
ought  not  to  say  anything." 

' (  You  have  to  tell  me,  now  that  you've  aroused  my 
interest." 

"Well,  I've  had  overtures  (her  eyes  sought  the 
ground),  from  the  Riverside  High  School,  but  it  isn't 
settled." 

"  My  !  —  oh  !  —  isn'  t  that  fine  ! ' '  Here  James  became 
exceedingly  conscious.  "  Why,  that's  where  I  live  !  " 

She  was  silent. 

"  If  you  go  down, "  he  went  on  quickly,  "  you  want  to 
look  my  folks  up.  They'll  be  glad  to  know  you  for  my  — 
because  you  know  me.  I'll  write  tomorrow." 

"You're  anticipating,  Mr.  Rawson.  I  told  you  it 
isn't  settled.  It  may  come  to  nothing." 

"Oh,  it'll  be  all  right  !  They're  all  anxious  to  get  the 
medalist.  The  old  saying,  you  know  —  '  nothing  succeeds 
like  success. ' ' ' 

"I'll  know  definitely  next  week.  If  you  tell  me 
where  to  address  you  I'll  drop  you  a  note  about  the  result." 

' '  That' s  a  go  —  San  Rafael  post-office.  And  you  just 
tell  me  where  you  are  if  you  don't  go  to  Riverside.  But 
you'll  make  it  all  right."  He  nodded  decisively.  "And 
I'm  coming  down  for  the  last  couple  of  weeks  of  vacation. 
I  expect  to  find  you  the  best  of  friends  with  my  mother.  I 
know  she'll  like  you." 

This  same  mother  would  have  been  surprised  had  she 
heard  this  determination  to  visit  home  in  the  light  of  the 
letter  regretting  its  impossibility  that  she  had  just  received 
from  her  son. 

They  had  turned  and  were  walking  up  the  path  to  the 


0-u-t   Spells   Out  231 


house.  "  I  suppose  you'll  be  off  early  in  the  morning,  Mr. 
Rawson?" 

"Yes,  we'll  be  off  with  the  birds." 

"  Well,  then,  good-by.  I  wish  you  every  success,  and 
feel  confident  that  you  will  gain  the  best." 

James  grasped  the  proffered  hand  tighter  than  he 
knew.  "  Good-by,  Miss  Gray.  I  thank  you  for  what 
you  have  done  for  me.  I  have  been  better  for  knowing 
you." 

"  So  have  I  for  knowing  you.  Strength  is  catching." 
She  smiled. 

"  You  won't  forget  to  write  ?  " 

"  I  won't." 

"Good-by." 

A  perfect  May  morning.  The  air  is  a  tonic.  The  birds 
are  chirping  cheerily  in  the  quiet  trees.  The  town  is  not  yet 
awake.  Two  bicycles  leaning  up  against  the  fence,  with 
luggage  strapped  on  handle-bars  and  behind  seats,  give 
evidence  that  a  departure  is  about  to  be  made.  James 
Rawson  comes  out  of  the  front  door  and  walks  down  to  the 
gate.  His  step  is  buoyant  ;  he  throws  his  chest  back  and 
expands  his  lungs  with  the  pure  air.  Confidence,  calm 
realization  of  strength  shine  from  the  clear  eyes,  and  are 
graven  in  the  set  of  the  lean  jaw.  And  good  cause. 
Handicapped,  without  assistance,  he  has  just  passed  the  first 
mile-stone  in  the  journey  of  the  larger  life.  Look  at  him  ! 
Does  he  appear  as  if  the  journey  had  distressed  him  ?  No. 
His  wind  and  limbs  are  strong, —  have  been  strengthened  in 
the  process.  He  has  not  kept  his  nose  to  the  ground  as  he 
went ;  he  has  taken  time  to  look  around  and  up,  and  to 
enjoy  the  beauties  of  the  roadside. 


232        For  the   Blue  and   Gold 


As  he  goes  down  the  walk  two  glistening  eyes  follow 
him  from  a  half-closed  shutter  above. 

"  Isn't  he  a  man  !  "  comes  from  a  heart  full  of  conflict- 
ing sighs. 

"  Percy,  we're  off!  Cub,  good-by  ;  take  good  care  of 
yourself.  Don't  get  cold  from  the  fire-damp,  and  write  at 
least  once." 

"Good-by,  boys." 

The  wheels  are  taken  to  the  curbstone  ;  the  tires  tested 
with  thumbs  ;  legs  are  thrown  over  saddles  ;  from  the 
doorway  a  handkerchief  waves. 

"Good-by,  Mrs.  Saunders." 

"  So  long,  George." 

"  A  California  yell,  fellows.     All  together." 

Clear  and  sharp  rings  out  upon  the  quiet  morning  : 

Ha!     Ha!    Ha! 
Cali  —  for — nia! 
U.  C.  Berkeley ! 
Zip  !    Boom  !    Ah ! 


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"Mr.  Robertson  'has  supplied  a  want,'  as  the  advertisements 
say,  by  furnishing  an  edition  of  the  Rubaiyat  for  the  use  of  students 
who  desire  to  make  notes  and  comments." —  News  Letter. 

Student's  edition,  with  blank  pages  for  notes,  toe. 


ROBERTSON'S    PUBLICATIONS 

The  Man  With  the  Hoe 

By  EDWIN  MARKHAM 

The  FIRST  EDITION  of  this  world  -  famous  poem.  Only  a  few 
copies  remain.  1,000  were  printed.  Originally  published  at  25  cents , 
but  now  advanced  to  $1.00. 

For  the  Blue  and  Gold 

A  tale  of    life  at  the  University  of    California. 
By  JOY   LICHTENSTEIN 

With  12  full  page  illustrations.  This  book  is  a  stirring  tale  of 
University  life,  and  the  press  notices  indicate  that  Mr.  Lichtenstein 
has  written  what  California  has  awaited  for :  a  real  University  story. 
12mo,  cloth.  Price  $1.50. 


A.    M.    ROBERTSON,  SAN  FRANCISCO 


DATE  DUE 


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